LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN; 

OB, 

THE CHILD TAUGHT BY THE 
PRAYER-BOOK. 

BY M. A. C. 



'* Plant in tne heart of childhood the seed of religious truth; 
foster its growth by a mother's prayers and instructions: and 
Bwcot will be the blossoms of early piety." 



NEW YORK 
E. P. BUTTON AND COMPANY 
81 West 23d Street 
1885 




Entered according to A.ct of Congress, in the yeai 1854. 
By The General Protestant Episcopal Sunday School Uniom 

AND Chitech Book Society, 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States 
for the Southern District of New York. 



48 65 5 5 

AUG 1 2 1942 



TO 

THE REV. HENRY C. LAY, 
^tx ^Sector, 

THIS LITTLE WORK 

IS AFPKCTIONATELT IKSORIBKD, BY 

THE author: 

hSU IP, IN ITS SIMPLE PAGES, SHE HAS BEEN ENABLED PAITH 
FULLY TU SET FOKTH THE TEACHINGS OF THE 
CHUECH, SUE AGKXOWLEI>GKS 
THAT, 

IT IS PRINCIPALLY TO HIS INSTRUCTION AND GUIDANCB THAT 
BHE OWES HER UNOWLEDGE OF THEM. 



PREFACE. 



The Author of the present unpretending volume 
is persuaded that, in general, the members of out 
Church bestow too little time and attention in 
endeavoring to imbue the minds and hearts of 
the young with a just appreciation of the value 
and excellence of the Book of Common Prayer, 

It has been the Author's design and wish, as 
far as lay in her power, to lead the little ones of 
the Church to thiuK more, and more justly, of 
those invaluable privileges which they enjoy ; and 
she is not without hope, that, through the medium 
of a story — all children love a story — they may be 
led to prize, as a treasure beyond price, the 
Liturgy of the Church, that sacred Liturgy which 
is so full of the Holy Word of God. 

The Author ventures to say, that, conscious as 
she is of manifold shortcomings, she has donft 
what she could; and she commends her littlf 



vi 



PREFACE. 



volume to the parents and guides of the young 
in our Church, with the earnest prayer that God 
may bless it to the edification and comfort of many 
a little one who is now training for heaven and 
eternal joys. 

M. A. 0. 

fiUVTBTILLE, Ala., 

Nov. 1st, 1854. 



THK 



LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



CHAPTER I. 

"I will say it; for it was naughty, it 
was wicked, for Mary Granville to speak 
so about the Church. I will ask mother 
if it was not." 

As these words were uttered, two little 
girls entered the room where their mother 
was sitting; one of them, with flushed 
cheeks, and eyes sparkling with indigna- 
tion, rushed up to her mother, and was 
just about to pour out her complaint, 
when Mrs. Melyille quietly laid down her 
sewing, and drew the child to her. With- 
out apparently noticing her excited man- 
ner, the mothej took both her hands in 



8 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



one of her own, and with the other put- 
ting back the clustering curls that were 
streaming in wild disorder over her face, 
she asked : 

Where has my little girl been?'' 
"As I came from school, mother,! 
called in at the church, to see the ladies 
making Christmas wreaths and, mother, 
isn't it naughty for Mary Granville to 
say-" 

And, Bessie," interrupted Mrs. Mel- 
ville, "why are they decorating the 
church ?" 

" Because, mother, it is Christmas," re- 
plied Bessie, surprised that her mother 
should ask such a question. 

" I know it, my dear ; but why is the 
church adorned with evergreens on Christ- 
mas, rather than at any other time ?" 

"Because, mother," answered the child, 
"it is Jesus Christ's birth-day, and my 
Sunday school teachei says, that as the 
church is Jesus Christ's house, it is very 
proper to decorate it on his birth-day." 

"Yes, my child," said Mrs. Melville, 
* that is all very true ; and can you tell 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 9 



me why Jesus Christ, who is God, con- 
sented to become a man, and to be born, 
at this time, a poor, little, helpless babe ?" 

" Yes, mother ; He came down into this 
world to suffer, and die for us, so that we 
might go to heaven." 

" Do you not think, my dear, the blessed 
Saviour must have loved us a very great 
deal to have been willing to leave his 
heavenly home, and come down into this 
world of trouble and sorrow, and live 
here for thirty-three years, just that we 
might go to heaven ?" 

Yes," replied the little girl, "I think 
He must have loved us very much." 

"And yet," answered her mother, " my 
little Bessie has been to that blessed Sa- 
viour's house, which they are now decora- 
ting just to remind us how much He 
loved us ; and, instead of her little heart 
being melted into gratitude for all his 
goodness, she comes rushing home to her 
mother, with red cheeks and flashing 
eyes, to tell something wrong that her lit- 
tle companion said." 

Poor Bessie's little boscm heaved; she 



10 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

looked mortified and distressed; and aa 
the tears gathered in her eyes, and began 
to roll down her cheeks, she faltered out, 
" I did not know it was a sin to love the 
Church : I thought I could not love it too 
much, and that I ought to defend it when- 
ever I heard anybody abuse it ; and Mary 
Granville said — " 

"Far be it from me, my darling," in- 
terrupted her mother, to teach you to 
undervalue the Church. God himself tells 
us, in his holy Word, to " reverence his 
sanctuary" — the very building consecrated 
to his worship. I trust, my child, that 
you will always love the Church, de- 
votedly and affectionately, and that, when 
you grow older, you will study and search 
out the reasons why you ought to love it, 
and thus be an intelligent Episcopalian. 
And ever, while you live, do I wish you 
to defend the Church against every false 
and unjust accusation; but, my child, I 
wish you to remember always to do it, as 
the Apostle enjoins, 4n meekness.^ I need 
scarcely say, Bessie, that I judge, from 
your manner, you have not exhibited this 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. H 

meekness in your disagreement with Mary 
Granville. I have purposely prevented 
your telling me anything of it before, 
because I feared that, in your excitement, 
you might be betrayed into doing her 
injustice ; but now that you are calmer, I 
will hear all about it ; and think, Bessie, 
as you proceed, and be very careful not 
to exaggerate or color anything that oc- 
curred." 

" I will try, mother," said the child, "to 
tell you exactly the truth." 

So saying, she seated herself in a little 
chair at her mother's feet, and looking up, 
her eyes still glistening with tears, she 
said^ — 

" As we came out of school, I asked 
Jennie if she would not call with me at 
the church to see how the ladies were get- 
ting on with the wreaths. She said she 
would; and Mary Granville, who v/as 
walking with us, said she would like to 
go, too. So we all went together. We 
walked all around, looked at the sentence 
over the pulpit, which is, ^Christ our 
Righteousness;' saw the star in the 



12 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



East, and thought every thing looked 
very beautiful." 

Heie Bessie paused an instant, and 
while a slight flush mantled her cheek, 
she resumed, with some eflfort- — 

" I think, mother, I felt a little proud of 
our church, because none of the others, you 
know, are ever dressed up so handsomely, 
and perhaps Mary noticed it, as I turned 
and asked her, why they did not dress up 
her church on Christmas ? 

She tossed her head, and said, * Be- 
cause her church did not believe in any 
such ridiculous nonsense.' Now, mother, 
wasn't it wrong, wasn't it wicked, for her 
to speak so of God's holy Church ?" And 
again Bessie's cheeks glowed, and her 
bright eyes flashed with indignation. 

Mrs. Melville's countenance assumed a 
very grave expression as she replied — 

" Yes, my daughter, it was very wrong 
for Mary Granville to utter such words 
as these with reference to the Church. 
The term ^ ridiculous nonsense' is a very 
harsh one to apply to any religious custom, 
but it becomes a really sinful expression 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 13 

when applied to the usages of the Church 
of God, and is especially unbecoming from 
the lips of a child. I sincerely trust that 
Mary will see her fault and ask God's for- 
giveness ; and, my dear child, if you think 
that anything in your tone or manner 
provoked her to say this, you, too, ought 
sincerely to implore pardon from God for 
having tempted her to commit this sin. 
And what did you say in reply to this, my 
daughter ?" 

"Before I tell you, mother, as I pro- 
mised to speak the whole truth, I must 
say that Jennie — who was standing where 
Mary could not see her, but I could — laid 
her finger on her lip, and motioned to me 
not to say any more ; and I wish now I 
had followed her advice, for I do not 
think I did any good by what I said; 
but I thought I could not quite bear such 
a speech as that made about my Church, 
so I said, I cannot see that there is any 
more ' ridiculous nonsense' in dressing oui 
church with evergreens, to show our glad- 
ness on the Saviour's birth-day, than in 
hanging black crape all over your pulpit, 
2 



14 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALLIN. 

last year, to show your sorrow when youi 
minister died." 

A transient smile passed over Mrs. 
Melville's countenance at Bessie's reply, 
but she suppressed it before the child 
perceived it, and her face resumed its 
expression of grave seriousness. 

Bessie continued: — 

" * Yes,' Mary said, * but that was a very 
different thing.' And, mother, when she 
said this I got really angry, and I suspect 
I showed it, for my cheeks burned and I 
said to her, *I think myself it is a very 
different thing; Jesus Chrisi^^ at whose 
birth we rejoice, is God; Mr. Lawson, whose 
death you lamented, was a man : indeed it 

15 a very different thing.' This is all, mother. 
I suspect Mary would have answered me, 
and I dare say we might have quarrelled 
there in the church, but Jennie came up 
just then, and looked at me so sadly, and 
said, * Come, Bessie, that will do, let us 
go home now ;' and then she put her arm 
around me, and drew me out of the 
church. Mother, I know I did wrong 
from the first. I see it all now, and I 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. . 15 

am very sorry for it ; but, most of all, I 
am sorry for what I said to dear, good 
Jennie; for when she told me, as we 
walked along home, how much she re- 
gretted what I had said, and that she 
was afraid it would only make Mary 
dislike the church, and never come there 
at all, I said, I did not care if she never 
came; for nobody ought ever to go to 
a church where they thought any thing 
that was done was ^ ridiculous nonsense.' 
Jennie is so patient; she never gets out 
of temper; never says anything has- 
tily. I do not believe she ever did any- 
thing wrong in her life. I wish I could 
be half as lovely as she is. I am so sorry 
I was cross to her." Bessie's lip quivered, 
und her eyes filled, and as the arm of 
that affectionate sister, whose presence 
in the room she had quite forgotten, 
was lovingly passed around her waist, 
she turned and saw Jennie's pale, sweet 
face, and large, deep-blue eyes, looking 
fondly at her. The impulsive child 
^lasped her to her bosom^ and sobbed 
out her sorrow that she had been cross 



16 THE LITTLE EPISCOPAL! AN. 

to her darling sister, and said so mucli to 
wound her feelings. 

Mrs. Melville sat quietly looking at 
them, with no traces of emotion except 
the quivering lip. She was a woman of 
the deepest feeling, and had once exer- 
cised as little control over it as the im- 
petuous Bessie ; but she had been severely 
schooled by affliction, and had learned 
to control herself, and would probably 
have passed, with those who knew her 
but slightly, as a woman devoid of any 
great sensibility. She had been for two 
years a widow, and the loss of an affec- 
tionate husband seemed to have left her 
to concentrate all the ardor of her loving 
nature upon these two children. She 
loved them both devotedly, and yet, 
although scarcely conscious of it herself, 
there was a yearning tenderness in her 
feeling towards Jennie, which did not 
exist in her heart for Bessie. Jennie was 
peculiarly endeared to her mother by 
the gentleness of her character, refined, 
as it was, by a deep and fervent piety, 
which was none the less sincere and 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 17 



earnest because seen in a child of only 
eleven summers ; while her delicate frame 
and languid step awakened a scarce 
acknowledged dread, that one so lovely, 
and yet so frail, might not sojourn long 
on earth 

Mrs. Melville waiuvXi, without a word, 
until Bessie^s excited feelings had, in a 
measure, exhausted themselves; and then 
quietly said — 

" I am glad, my child, to see you sorry 
for the manner in which you spoke to 
your gentle sister. You have asked, and 
obtained her forgiveness ; is that all you 
have to do?" 

**No, mother. I must ask God's for- 
giveness, too; for I know lie cannot be 
pleased with such a bad-tempered girl as 
I have been to-day." 

Very well," said her mother ; " I 
hope, Bessie, you will not forget it." 

" Oh, no ! mother, I shall not do that/* 
replied she ; and, seizing her bonnet, the 
volatile child ran out into the yard to 
play, und quickly the remembrance of 
her sin and of her contrition had passed 
2 



18 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

away, "like the morning cloud or tlio 
early dew." 

Mrs. Melville was a judicious as well 
as devoted mother. Her children and 
their welfare formed the absorbing thought 
of her heart. They were her world ; 
their society was her only earthly pleasure ; 
their happiness, all her desire. She had 
no worldly ambition for them. She 
intended, if she lived, to give them every 
advantage of education, and every ac- 
complishment that money could purchase; 
and this not with a view to their making 
a grand display, and becoming, what the 
world calls, brilliant women ; but she 
considered it a Christian duty to improve, 
to the utmost extent, every faculty and 
every talent which God had given them, 
that they might be made happier and 
more useful. It was her design, moreover, 
to educate their hearts as well as ttieir 
minds, and this she considered too sacred 
a privilege to be delegated to any other 
person. She had none of that maternal 
blindness to their faults and imperfections 
urhich we too often see in mothers. On 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 19 

the contrary, she was constantly on the 
alert to discover them, and then she 
prayerfully directed all her energies to 
correcting them. Neither was she in a 
hurry to have her children perfect all 
at once, but would frequently wait 
whole days for a suitable opportunity 
to administer a reproof or notice a fault. 
She now felt sincerely sorry that her 
thoughtless child seemed so lightly to 
regard the advice which she had rather 
implied than given with reference to 
asking Grod's forgiveness, but fearing the 
effects of too much fault-finding, she said 
nothing at present, but silently resumed 
her sewing. 

As Bessie bounded out of the room, in 
the exuberance of childish glee, Jennie's 
eyes followed her with an expression of 
sadness, and a sigh, scarcely audible, 
reached her mother's ear. 

" What makes my little daughter sigh ?^ 
"I was wondering, mother," Jennie 
badly replied, "why I cannot run about 
and play, like Bessie, and all the othef 
little girls. But I always feel so tired, 



20 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN, 



eveu when I am sitting still ; and if I try 
to play, it makes my head ache so, that 
[ have to stop directly. What is the 
reason, mother ? do you know ?" 

A painfal chord was touched in the 
mother's heart, but she repressed the tears 
which dimmed her eyes, and, passing her 
hand caressingly through the long brown 
curls that floated over Jennie's shoulders, 
she replied, in a voice tremulous with 
emotion — 

"It is, my darling, because you are not 
naturally so strong and robust as your 
sister." 

*'But, mother, what is the reason I am 
not so strong as Bessie ?" 

There was no avoiding a direct answer 
to this question; so Mrs. Melville re- 
plied — 

" Because, my dear, Grod did not make 
y ou so. He did not give you as vigorous 
a constitution as He gave to your Bister." 

"And why didii^t He, mother? Why 
didn't God make us both strong and 
well?" 

" ^Lh, my child ! your mother cannot 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 21 

tell you that. Bat this I can tell you, 
Jennie: God has some wise and good 
reason for making you a frail, delicate 
little girl. You know, my darling, how 
it grieves me to see you sick and languid; 
you know, when you are suflfering pain, 
how gladly I would relieve you, by taking 
it and bearing it myself, if I could ; but 
you may be sure that God does not love 
to see you suffer, any more than I do, and 
that He would never let you have one 
moment's pain, if He did not have some 
merciful design in it." 

Jennie made no reply ; and Mrs. Mel- 
ville felt so saddened by the train of 
thought suggested by the child's ques- 
tions, that she relapsed into silence. 

The little girl fixed her eyes upon the 
floor, and for a few moments seemed lost 
in thought; then suddenly she loc^ked up 
earnestly into her mother's face ar. d said, 
" Llother, I will tell you why I think 
God did not make me strong and healthy, 
like Bessie. I think He is going to make 
me die before I grow up to be a woman." 
Mrs. Melville started, as if stung to hei 



22 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

inmost soul, for the child's words seemed 
but the echo of what was passing in her 
own mind at that instant. She clasped 
her child to her bosom, and exclaimed — 

" May Grod, in his mercy, forbid it, my 
darling!" 

A few minutes passed without a word 
being spoken, and then Jennie said — 

"I believe, mother, if God would let 
me have my choice, I would rather go to 
Paradise while I am a little girl." 

Mrs. Melville looked at her with be- 
wildered surprise, and said — 

" Why, my dear?" 

" Because, mother, I believe the Saviour 
loves little children better than He loves 
anybody else. I was reading this morn- 
ing about his taking them in his arms, and 
putting his hands upon their heads and 
blessing them. I would love for him to 
lay his hands upon my head and bless me, 
^nd He cannot do it until I go to heaven." 

"Yes, he can, my darling, and he did 
take you in his arms and bless you, when 
I carried you, a little baby, and had you 
baptized." 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 23 



An expression of surprise covered 
Jennie's whole countenance, as she said, 
mth childish simplicity, "I never knew 
before that Jesus Christ was in this world, 
when I was a baby." 

" He was not here, my child, bodily, as 
he once was ; but his minister took you in 
his arms and laid his hand upon you, when 
he signed you with the sign of the cross, 
and he blessed you in the Saviour's name. 
Do you remember, Jennie, when we went 
to see poor Mrs. Edwards, the other day, 
that I told her, if she would send up the 
next day, I would give her some pro- 
visions and clothes for her children ? and 
do you remember, the next morning, as I 
was going out, I turned back, and told 
you, that if she sent while I was gone, 
you must give them in my place?" 
Yes, mother, I remember it all." 

"Now, Jennie, those articles were mine^ 
although you sent them, and if I had not 
told you to send them, you would have 
done very wrong to give tiiem away with- 
out my permission. Just so it was in 
you^-" baptism. The blessings which Mr. 



iS4 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

Kennedy promised yon were the Savionr's 
blessings, and if Christ had not told his 
ministers that they mnst act in his ])lace, 
they wonld have no more right to promise 
any blessings in his name, than you would 
have to give away what is mine without 
my permission. Do you understand this, 
my daughter?" 

" Yes, mother, I think I do." 

"So, then, Jennie, it was only because 
Christ was not here bodily to do it him- 
self, that his minister blessed you in his 
stead; and, my dear child, the Saviour 
feels just as much bound to keep the 
promises which Mr. Kennedy made for 
him, as if he had himself held you in his 
arms, and blessed you with his own 
mouth." 

" Mother, what promises did the Sa- 
viour make to me, when I was baptized ?" 

Take your Prayer Book, Jennie, and 
I will show you." 

Jennie went to a stand, on which lay a 
Bible and Prayer Book, of very large size, 
which Mrs. Melville used in her daily 
Simily prayers. Her slight frame tottered 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAJT. 25 



urider tlie weight of tlie heavy book, but 
she reached her mother safely, wiihoul 
letting it fall, and laid it upon her lap. 

Mrs. Melville turned to the Baptismal 
service, and pointing to the place, Jennie 
read — 

" * Ye have prayed that our Lord Jesus 
Christ would vouchsafe to receive him^ to 
release Mm from sin, to sanctify Mm with 
the Holy Ghost, to give Mm the kingdom 
of heaven and everlasting life. Ye have 
heard, also, that our Lord Jesus Christ 
hath promised, in his Gospel, to grant all 
these things that ye have prayed for; 
which promise, he, for his part, will most 
surely keep and perform.' " 

That will do, Jennie," said her mo- 
ther; do you know now what promises 
the Saviour made to you?" 

The child hesitated a moment, and then 
thoughtfully shook her head. 

" Well, my dear, we will look at them 
again. What is the first thing we asked 
the Saviour to do for you?" 

Mrs. Melville pointed to the place, and 
Jennie read — 
S 



26 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



"*That our Lord Jesus Christ would 
vouchsafe to receive himJ " 

"Stop there, Jennie, and let us talk 
about that, and see what it means. To 
receive him — that is, to take the little 
baby as his own child ; to love him, to 
watch over him, to take care of him, to 
guard him from all danger. This is what 
we mean when we ask the Saviour to 
receive the child we bring to him. Eead 
what we ask for next. " 

" ' To release him from sin.' " 

" To release, Jennie, means to set free. 
Here we pray that God will help the child, 
as he grows up, to love to do what is 
right, and avoid what is wrong ; and that 
he will forgive him when he does wrong 
and is sorry for it. What do we pray for 
next?" 

" ^ That he will sanctify him with the 
Holy Ghost.' " 

" To sanctify," said Mrs. Melville, is to 
make holy. Here we ask God to make 
the little babe holy ; to give him both the 
desire and the power to grow better every 
day, and to become more like God. There 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 27 

is yet another thing that we pray for; 
read what it is." 
Jennie read— 

" * To give him the kingdom of heaven 
and everlasting life.' " 

"This, my child, needs no explanation. 
Heaven, you know, is that blessed world, 
where the inhabitant shall never say, *I 
am sick where God shall wipe away all 
tears ; where there shall be no more sor- 
row, neither crying nor death ; and ever- 
lasting life is a life that has no end." 

Jennie looked very thoughtful, and, 
pressing her little hand upon her forehead, 
said, musingly — 

That must be a pleasant home where 
nobody is ever sick ; I think I would like 
to be there now, for then my head would 
not throb so. Now, mother, tell me over 
all these blessings at once. I can under- 
stand better what they are when you tell 
them to me, than when I read them my- 
self." 

Mrs. Melville repeated them carefully 
to the little girl. 

" The Saviour promises that the person 



28 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

baptized shall be his own child ; that he 
will love him and take care of him; that 
he will help him to do what is right, and 
avoid what is wrong ; that he will make 
him grow better and better every day; 
and that, when he dies, he shall go to 
heaven, where he shall live for ever. All 
these things, Jennie, the Saviour promised 
to you, by Mr. Kennedy, when you were 
baptized." 

"I wonder, mother, if I will be certain 
to have all these things.' " 

" Eead what the Prayer Book says, my 
dear." 

Jennie read — 

" * Which promise He for his part will 
most surely keep and perform.' " 

Her eyes wandered from the book, and 
she seemed lost in thought; then, suddenly 
starting up, she hastily asked — 

" Mother, will Mr. Bennett go to hea- 
ven?" 

trust so, my dear; but why do 
vou ask ?" 

"Because he is very wicked. Would 
he go to heaven, if he were to die now, 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN". 29 

without being sorry for his sin, or asking 
Grod to forgive liim, for Christ's sake?'' 

" No, Jennie ; most certainly not." 

" Why, mother, I heard him say, that 
he was baptized when he was a little 
baby; and you know, I just now read 
that Christ promises the kingdom of 
heaven to every child that is baptized." 

^*Dear Jennie, we will talk a little 
about that. When I promised to give 
Mrs. Edwards those articles, I did not 
say, I will send my own servant down 
with them ; I told her if she would send 
up herself I would give them to her. 
Do you know why I did this ?" 

Jennie shook her head. 

" Because," replied her mother, I knew 
she could very conveniently send her 
little boy for them, and I thought if 
slif*- did not care enough about them to 
lake that much trouble, she could not 
be in very great need of what I had 
offered to give her. So, then, I did not 
promise those things to her absolutely 
but conditionally. If she sent, she would 
wely get them; if not, she would not 
8* 



so THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



get them. Do you see this, my (laugh 
ter?" 

" Yes, mother, I understand this per 
fectly." 

"In the same way, my dear, has ou) 
Saviour promised us the blessings of 
his baptismal covenant; not absolutely, 
but conditionally." 

" His baptismal what, mother 
" Covenant, my child. Covenant means 
agTcement, and you know it always takes 
two persons to make an agreement. I 
made the agreement with Mrs. Edwards, 
that if she would send I would give 
her what I had promised. I was bound 
to do it if she sent ; but if not, I was 
entirely released from my promise. Just 
so it is in baptism. The Saviour pro- 
mises blessings on certain conditions, and 
on these conditions alone. I will show 
you what the Prayer Book says these 
are." 

Mrs. Melville found the place, and 
Jennie read. 

" * This child hath promised by you, 
nip sureties, to renounce the devil, and 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 31 



all his works ; to believe in God, and to 
Berye him.' " 

That is sufficient, my dear. To re- 
nounce means to give up." 

In another part of this service, the 
minister asks the person who brings the 
little baby to be baptized — 

" * Dost thou, in the name of this child, 
renounce the devil and all his works, 
the vain pomp and glory of the world, 
and the sinful desires of the flesh?' To 
give up the devil and all his works; to 
try earnestly and constantly to resist 
the efforts which this evil one is always 
making to persuade us to do what will 
displease God; to give up all that love 
for the world, its fashions and gayeties, 
which will make us forget God, and so 
dissipate our minds that we cannot fix 
our thoughts on serious things ; and, 
lastly, to give up our evil tempers and 
wicked desires, to try and be meek and 
gentle, to love God and holiness, and to 
desire only those things which will make 
us better Christians and prepare us to go 
to heaven ; all this is the first promise. 



32 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

*^The second promise whicli is made 
for the child is, that it shall 'believe 
the Apostles' Creed.' You know what 
that is, Jennie." 

"Yes, mother," replied the child; and 
slowly and reverently she repeated the 
Creed. 

When she had finished, her mother 
said : 

"The last promise is, that the child 
shall, by God's help, 'obediently keep 
God's holy will and commandments all 
his life.' Now, Jennie, listen to me at- 
tentively, and I will tell you in a few 
words what baptism is. Christ is not 
in this world in his bodily presence ; 
so He tells his minister to take his place, 
and act in his stead. The little baby 
is too young to promise for itself, so its 
mother and father, or Christian friends, 
promise in its place. The minister calls 
upon the parents to promise that the 
child shall resist all the persuasions of 
the devil to make him do wrong ; that he 
shall give up all the gayeties and vanities 
of tlie world which interfere with his 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN, 33 



duty to God ; that he shall try and have 
a gentle and patient spirit ; that he shall 
believe the Creed ; and that he shall try 
all his life to obey God's commandments. 
These are the promises which the parents 
make for the child. Then the minister 
promises for Christ that He will love this 
little child, and take care of him ; that 
He will help him to resist the temptations 
of the devil ; that He will make him grow 
better every day, and at last, when he 
dies, and is risen again, will take him to 
heaven. This, Jennie, is what is meant 
by the baptismal covenant," 

" Mother," replied Jennie, " I think 
I shall love to read the Baptismal service 
now, because I begin to understand some- 
thing about it. 1 have never tried to read 
It by myself, because when I have looked 
over as Mr. Kennedy read it in church, it 
always seemed too hard for a little girl 
like me to understand. So I thought 
[ would wait until I grew older before 
I would ever try to read it again." 

Jennie mused a little while, and then 
said — 



84 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALLAJ^. 



"Mother, what is the use of making 
those promises for a little baby ? How 
does anybody know that the little baby 
is going, when he grows up, to keep them ? 
I should think it would be better to wait 
until he grows old enough to make his 
own promises." 

" A great many older persons than you 
are, Jennie, have found the same objection 
to Infant Baptism. My child, which would 
you rather do — have all those blessings 
now which the Saviour promised to you 
when you were baptized, or wait until you 
are a grown woman before you get them 

" Oh, mother," replied the child, with 
great earnestness, would a great deal 
rather have them now, because I might 
not live to be a grown woman. But I 
thought you said the Saviour only pro- 
mised me those blessings if I would pro- 
mise to do something, too. Now, mother, 
you know I have not done any thing yet, 
because I never knew before what you 
had promised him I should do. Bat 
I am going to try now ; and as soon as 
I begin to do what you said I should, 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAIT. 35 



He will begin to give me wliat Mr. Ken 
nedy said He would ; is that it, mother 

" Not quite, my child. The Saviour is 
a great deal more merciful than even 
your young, innocent heart can believe, 
and He loves you too much to wait so 
long before He blesses you. I promised 
for you, and I am bound to keep those 
promises in your place, until you are 
old enough to understand and keep them 
for yourself. And if I do this faithfully 
and earnestly; if I take you every day 
when I pray, and give you over again to 
that Blessed Saviour, asking him to make 
you a good little Christian now, without 
waiting until you grow up to be a 
woman; and if I teach you about that 
Saviour, and try to make you under- 
stand that you are his child, and are 
bound to love and obey him ; and if 
I try to impress upon you a fear of 
doing what you know will displease 
him; then I am keeping the promises 
I made for you, and Christ will bless 
you just the same as if you kept them 
for yourself." 



36 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



The child arose from her little chair, 
and, with her large, blue eyes filled with 
tears, she lovingly twined her arras 
around her mother's neck, and said, very 
earnestly — 

"I think, dear mother, this is a great 
deal better way than promising for my- 
self; for I know you love me so much, 
and are so anxious for the Saviour to 
bless me, that you will try a great deal 
harder to keep the promises for me, than 
I would to keep them for myself." 

Her mother pressed her to her bosom, 
and said, falteringly, God knows, my 
precious child, how earnestly I wish that I 
could keep them more faithfully, and you 
might be blessed more abundantly. But, 
my darling, there is one other thing I 
must tell you. As soon as you grow old 
enough to understand what I have prom- 
ised for you, then you will have to assume, 
or take these promises, and keep them for 
yourself ; if you do not, then Christ will 
take away all the blessings which He' has 
given you while I kept them for you. 
Your mother can only keep them, in jam 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 37 



place, until you are old enough to keep 
them yourself." 

" Mother, you have told me now, and I 
begin to understand a little, but only a 
little, of what I have to do. Are you 
going to stop keeping these promises for 
me, now, and give them over to me, to 
keep all by myself? Mother, I a,m almost 
too small yet, I think, to do it all alone. 
I will try what I can do, and you will 
help out the rest, won't you, dear mother?" 

Mrs. Melville could not repress a smile, 
at the half-affrighted manner with which 
Jennie seemed to shrink from assuming 
her baptismal vows; and she replied, "I 
will do, my child, just what I have always 
done for you, for it is no disagreeable duty, 
but a sweet privilege, for your mother to 
plead, every day, that the blessed Saviour 
will love and take care of her little girl. 
But, my dear, there is One who is l>oth 
more able and more willing even than I 
am to help you to keep these baptismal 
promises." 

Jennie looked incredulous, and asked — 

"Who, mother?" 
4 



88 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



"The Holy Spirit, my daughter, will 
most certainly help you far better than 
any human being can ; and He has prom- 
ised to do it, if you will only ask his assist- 
ance. With his help, my child, young as 
you are, you need not be afraid to promise 
to do what, without that aid, you never 
can do, even if you live to be a very old 
woman ; and if you go to your Saviour, 
^nd tell him just what you told me a little 
while ago, Hhat you cannot do these 
things by yourself; that you will do all 
you can ;' and ask him, as you have asked 
me, * to help out the rest,' He will do it, 
my child, a great deal better than your 
mother can, although she loves you so 
dearly, and would so willingly help you." 

Jennie made no reply, and sat for a lit- 
tle while in silence, and then said — 

" Mother, you did not tell me, after all, 
if Mr. Bennett will go to heaven." 

"I cannot tell, my child; but this I 
know, that the mere fact of his having 
been baptized will not take him there. 
While his mother kept, faithfully, the 
promises which she made for him, the Sa- 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 89 

viour blessed him ; but if, after lie becamo 
old enough himself to understand and ful- 
fil these promises, he did not do it, then 
Christ stopped blessing him. This was the 
agreement at his baptism, was it not?" 

Yes, mother, you have explained this 
to me." 

There was another pause. Jennie sat, 
leaning her forehead upon her hand. At 
last, she said — 

" Mother, I am so tired, and my head 
aches so. If I lie down upon the sofa, will 
you bring your chair and sit by me, and 
hold my head a little while ?" 
Certainly, my darling." 

Mrs. Melville rang the bell, and had the 
sofa rolled up before the fire, and Jennie^s 
pillow brought down stairs. She laid her 
little girl down, and covered her with all 
a mother's tenderness and care, and sitting 
down beside her, laid her hand, with gen- 
tle pressure, upon the throbbing brow. 
Jennie's feeble energies seemed entirely 
exhausted, and in a few minutes she was 
in a deep sleep. 

The mother sat watching her slumber* 



40 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



ing child, and a groan, rather than a sigh, 
escaped her, as she saw the slight flush 
upon her pale cheek gradually deepen into 
a bright crimson spot. Too surely did 
her breaking heart read the seal of that in- 
sidious disease which generally selects as 
its victims the young and lovely ; and she 
had become too sadly familiar with it in 
her earlier days not to recognize now its 
sure and unmistakable impress. 

With one hand she stilled the throb- 
bings of her child's aching head ; and with 
the other she tried to still the throbbings 
of her own aching heart, as she thought 
how utterly unavailing would be all a 
mother's agony and tears, how hopelessly 
impotent all her efforts to relieve the suf- 
ferings of a child she would willingly die 
to save. 

With eyes undimmed by a tear, and 
lips firmly compressed, as if to forbid the 
utterance of a groan, and a countenance 
on whose every feature was written the 
deepest anguish, she watched the little 
sleeper, whose repose seemed deep and 
undisturbed. At length, hearing Bessie'a 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 41 

merry voice, as she rapidly approached the 
house, Mrs. Melville arose hastily, but 
quietly, and went to the door to impose si- 
lence upon that happy, noisy child. She 
met her, and spoke not a word, but merely 
motioned to her to come in quietly ; yet 
a cloud instantly overspread the child's 
countenance, and the unspoken sorrow of 
Mrs. Melville's heart seemed instantly to 
daguerreotype itself, as it were, on Bessie's 
face. 

Afraid and distressed, she knew not 
why, she walked very softly into the 
room, gazed intently for a few moments 
upon her sleeping sister, then seating her- 
self upon the floor, close beside the sofa, 
she fixed her eyes upon Jennie's face, and 
sat as immovable as a statue. 

Mrs. Melville resumed her seat, and the 
silence was unbroken, save by Jennie's 
deep and regular breathing. * 

At last poor little Bessie's suspense be- 
came intolerable. She arose, crept up to 
her mother's side, and gently whispered, 
" Mother, is Jennie going to die ?" 

A shudder ran through Mrs. Melville's 

4* 



i2 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



frame as she replied, " God only knows, 
my child. But hush ! you must not talk 
now. She is sleeping very sweetly, and it 
will be wrong to disturb her." 

Bessie went softly back to her place, 
and now her eyes wandered from Jennie's 
face to her mother's ; and, in watching the 
two, she passed what seemed to her a very 
long hour, while her sister slept. 

At last Jennie awoke, and turning her 
eyes towards her mother, said with a 
smile — 

^'I have had a nice nap, haven't I, 
mother?" 

"Yes, my dear," replied her mother, 
" Bessie and I have kept very still, so a? 
not to awaken you." 

Bessie, whose childish anxieties and 
fears had been aroused rather by the ex- 
pression of her mother's countenance, than 
by anything in the appearance of her sis- 
ter, now that she saw her smile as usual, 
sprang from her seat, and throwing her- 
eelf on the sofa, close by Jennie, said — 

" Why, Jennie, I thought you must be 
eiok, to lie down and go to sleep such a 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 43 



briglit sunsliiny day. But you are not, 
are you ?" 

"No," replied Jennie, "not sick, Bes- 
eie ; only my head ached, and I felt tired ; 
6ut now, since I have been asleep, I am 
as well as ever." 

She arose from the sofa, and seated her- 
self in the little chair by the fire, and Bes- 
sie patted her on the cheek, and said, 
laughingly — 

" No, indeed, sister, you cannot be very 
sick ; for you have two beautiful red spots 
upon your cheeks, and such great big, 
blue eyes. I declare, Jennie, you are so 
prexty !" And the affectionate child put her 
arms around her sister's neck, and kissed 
her again and again. 

Jennie returned her embrace, and said 
quietly, " I am glad my cheeks are red, 
Bessie. Everybody calls me the pale- 
faced little girl, and I always wanted to 
nave bright cheeks, like yours." 

An expression of pain rested on Mrs, 
Melville's countenance as she thought, how 
strange it is that this fearful disease always 
comes under the garb and hue of health ; 



44 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



and while her own heart was wrung by a 
certainty which could not, for one moment, 
be deceived, she envied the blissful uncon* 
sciousness of her unsuspecting children. 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 45 



CHAPTER 11. 

In a few minutes Bessie was detailing 
to her sister, with childish eagerness, all 
the pleasure she had enjoyed in her romp 
in the yard. Her mother waited patiently 
until her volubility had exhausted itself, 
and then said, quietly — 

I should think, Bessie, you must have 
enjoyed yourself very much, indeed, for 
you made a good deal of noise for so small 
a girl." 

Did I make too much noise, mother?" 
asked she, inquiringly. 

*^Not at all, my daughter. I love to 
see you happj^, and enjoy your play; and 
when there is no one sick, to be disturbed 
by noise, I do not care how much you 
make, provided always that you are not 
rude, and are good-humored. Nothing 
does me so much good as to see my little 
girls happy, and no music sounds half so 



46 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAK. 

sweet to me as their merry, joyous laugh. 
So then, my daughter, I suppose you have 
forgotten all the bad feelings you had to- 
wards Mary Grranville." 

Oh, yes, mother," replied Bessie ; " I 
forgot them as soon as I went out in the 
yard to play." 

I think, my dear, the last thing you 
did, before you went out, was to beg your 
sister's pardon for having been cross to 
her. Do you think you would have en- 
joyed yourself so much if you had gone 
without doing this ?" 

No, mother, I know I would not ; for 
I did feel very sorry that I had spoken so 
to her, and I could not have been satisfied 
until I had told her so." 

Was there any other person, Bessie, 
whom you had offended, beside your sis- 
ter?" 

" Yes, ma'am," replied Bessie, looking 
down upon the carpet; and then she al- 
most whispered, ^' God." 

" Now, Bessie, it is right for you to love 
your sister dearly, and to be very sorry 
when you treat her badly ; but ought you 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 47 



to be most sorry for offending God or 
your sister ?" 

Before Bessie could reply, Jennie spoke 
up hastily, ^' Oh ! mother, I was not of- 
fended with Bessie. I was only sorry 
that she had spoken so to Mary Granville, 
because I thought it was wrong; and I 
love Bessie so much, that I cannot bear 
she should do what is wrong." 

^^That, my child, is precisely the feeling 
which God has towards all sinners. He 
knows tliat sin is wrong and must be 
punished, and it is because He loves us 
so much that He dislikes so much to see 
us commit sin. But, Bessie, you have not 
answered my question. For which ought 
you to be most sorry, your offence against 
God or against your sister?" 

'^I ought to be most sorry for offending 
God." 

And yet, Bessie, you were not. You 
felt a great deal more regret for what you 
said to Jennie, than for your sin against 
God." 

Bessie looked up at her mother, and 



48 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



"How can you tell, mother? You 
cannot see into my heart." 

"No, my child; but I can judge by 
your actions. As soon as you thought 
how cross you had been to her, you put 
your arms around her, and told her, with 
tears, how sorry you were, and asked hei 
forgiveness. When you had obtained this, 
you ran out to play with a light heart, al- 
though you had not told God that you 
were sorry for your sin, and although He 
had not forgiven you. Which of these in 
stances shows most sorrovr ?" 

Bessie hung her head, and said nothing. 
At length she replied — 

" But, mother, I am going to ask God's 
forgiveness when I pray to him to-night." 

" Why, my dear, did you not wait until 
to-night, or to-morrow, to ask your sister's 
pardon ?" 

" Because, mother, I felt so sorry I could 
not wait ; and, besides, Jennie was here by 
me, and all I had to do was just to ask 
her." 

" Bessie, how much farther off is God 
than your sister was ? Does not the Bible 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 49 



teach us that He is close to us, and that 

his eye is upon us all the time?" 
"Yes, mother." 

*' Then, Bessie, you have not given me 
the true reason yet. It was not because 
your sister was nearer to you, that you 
asked her forgiveness first. Try and think 
what the reason was." 

Bessie thought a little while, and said : 
" Mother, I had nothing to do but to ask 
Jennie, and I knew she would forgive me, 
and would tell me so: but when I ask 
God to pardon me for what I do wrong, 
I have to go off by myself; and kneel 
down, and tell him, and even then He 
does not tell me He has forgiven me, and 
I do not know whether He has or not." 

"Now, Bessie, I wish to tell you a 
little about these objections. In the first 
place, it seems it was a little more trouble 
to ask Grod's forgiveness than to ask Jen- 
nie's ; and in the second place, you did not 
feel quite so sure of obtaining it. Am I 
right, my daughter?" 

Bessie looked ashamed and distressed, 
but she always spoke the truth ; so, after a 
5 



50 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



little hesitation, she replied, "I t relieve 
BO, mother." 

"I do not think, my dear," said Mrs. 
Melville, ^Hhat I need say any thing to 
you about the first objection, for I am 
well assured, that when you reflect how 
good and merciful God is to you, you wUl 
be sincerely sorry to know, that when yoa 
offend this tender and affectionate Father, 
you are wicked enough to think it too 
much trouble to ask his forgiveness. But 
I would like to say a few words about 
your other objection; that you are not 
perfectly sure of obtaining God's forgive- 
ness when you ask it. Bessie, what makes 
you doubt it, my child?" 

Because, mother,'^ readily replied the 
little girl, "God does not speak to me 
and tell me He forgives me, as Jennie 
did a little while ago. If I could only 
hear him say so, I would be very glad to 
go, every time I do wrong, and ask him 
to forgive me; for, mother, I really do 
want to please God, and I am always 
uorry the very minute I do wrong." 

"I believe you speak truly, my dear, 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 5i 



and I trust you will always be, as one of 
the praj^ers in our Prayer Book says, 
* both afraid and ashamed to offend him,' 
But, Bessie, He has spoken, and told you 
He would forgive your sins." 

Bessie shook her head, doubtingly, and 
said, never heard him, mother." 

" Now, Bessie, listen to me. You bring 
your spelling-book every night for me to 
help you with your lessons. Do you 
ever think perhaps I will say, ' Gro away, 
Bessie, I have not time now, but maybe 
I will help you to-morrow night.' " 

No, mother, I know you will not say 
so, because when I commenced going to 
school last session, you told me to come to 
you every night, and you would help me." 

" So, then, your mother's promise, given 
once, a long time ago, is sufficient. Is it, 
Bessie?" 

" Yes, ma'am. I am never afraid you 
will break your promise." 

" Who is most likely, Bessie, to break a 
promise, God or your mother ?" 

Bessie thought a moment, and then said 
resolutely: Neither mother. I know 



62 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAK. 

God would not break his promise, and 1 
know you would not break it, either." 

It is true," said Mrs. Melville, " that 1 
have a great dread of the least departure 
from the strict truth, and I always endeavor 
to adhere closely to it ; but after all, my 
child, I might, perhaps, without knowing 
it, deviate from it, but the Bible tells us 
God cannot lie. Now, Bessie, if I can 
show you that God promised, once for 
all, a long time ago, to forgive our sins 
when we are really sorry, and tell him 
so, will you believe that his promise holds 
good now, just as you believe your mo- 
ther's word, given so many months ago, 
holds good now ?" 

"Yes, ma'am, I will," replied she. 

Mrs. Melville took from her work-basket, 
by her side, a small Prayer Book, which 
formed as much a part of the furniture 
of that basket as did her needle-case 
or thimble, and to whose pages she re- 
ferred many times during the day. She 
opened it, and pointing to a portion of the 
last text of Scripture appointed to be read 
at the commencement of morning or even- 



THE LITTIiE EPISCOPALIAN. 53 



ing service, she told Bessie to read. Slie 
did so. 

" ' K we confess our sins, God is faithful 
and just to forgive us our sins.' " 

"Are you satisfied now, my child? 
Does this promise, which God made long 
ago, hold good yet?" 

Bessie hesitated, and then said, rather 
timidly, as if afraid she was doing wrong : 
"That is not the Bible that says so, mo- 
ther. That is the Prayer Book." 

Her mother, instead of reproving her, as 
she seemed almost to expect, drew her 
little girl close to her side, and said — 

" I am not sorry, my darling, to hear you 
say that. The Bible must ever be first in 
your affections, and all other books you 
must value just in proportion as their teach- 
ings accord with God's holy Word ; and nei- 
ther the Prayer Book nor any other book 
is worth any thing if it is contrary to the 
Bible. But, Bessie, about nine-tenths of 
the Prayer Book is copied, word for word, 
from the Bible, and in all the rest of it I 
have never found any thing that was not 
strictly in accordance with the teachings? 
6^ 



54 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAIT. 



of the Holy Scriptures. When you and 
Jennie are old enough, I shall put the 
Bible and Prayer Book together into your 
hands, that you may have the pleasure of 
seeing for yourselves how perfectly they 
agree; and you will then find out that 
the Prayer Book has gathered up all the 
teachings of the Bible, and shown us how 
we may put them in practice. But to 
return to what we were talking about just 
now. Eead what is at the bottom of the 
passage which you have read from the 
Prayer Book." 

Bessie read slowly and wonderingly — 
" One John — one — eight — nine and 
looked up at her mother inquiringly. 

Mrs. Melville answered her appealing 
look. 

" The Apostle John wrote, besides the 
Grospel, three letters or Epistles, which are 
distinguished as First, Second, Third John. 
The next figure indicates the chapter ; the 
next two show what verses. So, then, 
these puzzling letters read this way: — 
Fii'st John, first chapter, eighth and ninth 
verses. Now, Bessie, if I can find these 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALl 55 

very words in the Bible, you will take 
them as Grod's own promise, will you 
not?" 

Yes, mother, I will." 

Mrs. Melville arose, and going to the 
stand, opened the large Bible, and calling 
Bessie, showed her the passage and made 
her read it. 

She then asked her if she was satisfied. 
All her objections were now entirely re- 
moved, so she answered — 

**yes, ma'am;" and then relapsed into 
silence. 

Her mother gave her a few moments to 
reflect, and then said — 

*'Do you not believe now that G-od has 
told you he will forgive you if you con- 
fess your sins ; and when you do confess 
them, will you not be just as certain that 
he has forgiven you, as you now are that 
Jennie has pardoned you ?" 

**Yes, mother," replied she; ana then, 
after pausing an instant, she added : " But 
I think I would be a little better satisfied, 
if he would speak to me each time, and 
tell me he has forgiven that very sin 



56 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN". 

which I have just asked him to pardon.' 

"That is a perfectly natural feeling, my 
daughter; and it is for this very reason 
that the Church, always careful of oui 
comfort as well as our instruction, pro 
vides that the minister shall pronounco 
the pardon, or * Declaration of Absolution/ 
as it is called in the Prayer Book, imme- 
diately after the Greneral Confession. On 
our bended knees we acknowledge our 
sins to God, and implore his pardon ; and 
although we have his promise, given long 
ago, that he will forgive us, yet it is very 
pleasant and comfortable to hear a voice 
speaking plainly in our ear this precious 
assurance, 'He pardoneth and absolveth 
all those who truly repent, and unfeign- 
edly believe his holy Gospel.' This, my 
child, 4s telling us each time,' as you say, 
that he has pardoned us." 

Bessie was silent for a little while, and 
then said — 

*' But, mother, when I confess my sins, 
how sorry must I be? — that is the dif- 
ficulty. I might not be sorry enough for 
God to forgive me. [ might feel perfectly 

I 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN". 57 

satisfied, and think I was forgiven, while 
God was still very angry with me." 

" You must be sorry enough, my child, 
to be determined that, if God will help 
you, you will not commit that same sin, 
whatever it is, again. And you must try 
and not forget your resolution, but must 
watch over yourself, and be very careful 
not to do so any more. Do you under- 
stand it all now, Bessie?'' 

" Yes, mother, I think I do, perfectly." 

Mrs. Melville was generally satisfied 
with pointing out their duty to her chil- 
dren, and then giving them time to fulfil 
it voluntarily. She did not now ask 
Bessie to seek God's forgiveness at once. 
She had shown to her, very clearly, what 
unjust conceptions she had formed of 
God's willingness to pardon, and she now 
concluded, after pointing out her error, 
to leave it to the child herself to rectify 
it. She thought she had talked enough 
to her for the present, so she changed 
the conversation, and commenced asking 
about her romping and playing in the 
yard 



58 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN-. 



Bessie's face brightened at once, and 
she said — 

" Oh, mother ! I had entirely forgotten 
what I was running into the house to ask 
you about when you told me to be quiet 
and not wake sister. Susie Dan vers came 
over to play with me, and says there is a 
man in town who has the most beautiful 
canary birds and cages to sell. Her mother 
is going to get one for her to-morrow, and 
I told her I would run and ask you if you 
would not buy one for me ; but when you 
met me at the door, and looked so sad, 
and told me to come in quietly, for Jennie 
was asleep and sick, I never thought of 
Susie or the birds any more until this mo- 
ment. But, mother, please do buy two 
birds; one for me, and one for Jennie. 
They will sing so sweetly, and play so 
prettily, and be such pleasant company 
for you when we are at school. Won't 
you, dear mother?" 

Mrs. Melville was a very indulgent mo» 
ther whenever she could conscientiously 
gratify her children; so she said, ^^Oer- 
tainly I will, my dear. I will take you 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 59 



both down to-morrow, and let you select 
them yourselves." 

Bessie capered over the floor for joy; 
but Jennie looked quietly up into her mo 
ther's fece, and said — ; ■ : - ^ . 

Mother, if you will let me choose, 
there is a pet I would rather have than a 
canary bird." 

"Well, my darling, if mother can get 
it, you shall have it. What is it, Jennie ?" 

" A little lamb, mother." 
A little what?" asked Bessie, who had 
ceased her capers to hear what on earth it 
was that Jennie could prefer to a singing 
bird. 

"Lamb," repeated Jennie. 

" Well ! what a choice !" ejaculated Bes- 
sie. " Prefer a lamb to a canary bird ! I 
always did think, Jennie, you were a queer 
child." 

" Never mind," said her mother. " If 
Jennie prefers it, she shall have it, if there 
is one to be found any where. I will send 
fcO the plantation to-morrow, and see if we 
3an get one ; but I am very much afraid, 
my daughter, that you will have to wait 



60 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN 

until Spring, for it is very seldom that we 
have lambs at Christmas, even in our 
warm climate. However, we will try, and 
if we succeed, we will tie a blue ribbon 
around his neck ; and if we keep him in 
the house, he will soon feel perfectly at 
home, and familiar with us all. But why 
does my little Jennie choose a lamb ?" 
" Because, mother," she timidly replied, 
have read a great deal about lambs 
in the Bible. The Saviour is called the 
Lamb, and my little pet will always re- 
mind me of him. And besides, mother, a 
iamb is so gentle and loving in its nature. 
Oh! I would a great deal rather have a 
lamb." 

Mrs. Melville was deeply touched to 
discover how thoroughly imbued the 
child's heart was with religious feelings, 
and that the recollection of her Saviour 
was so constantly present to her mind that 
the thought of him blended even with her 
amusements. 

Addressing herself to her other child, 
she said — 

" Are you satisfied now, Bessie, with re« 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 61 

gaid to your sister's reasons for preferring 
a lamb ? and do you think her choice as 
unaccountable as you did a moment ago ?" 

No answer came; and Mrs. Melville 
looked round for her, but Bessie was not 
there ; she had quietly disappeared. The 
mother and child did not resume the con- 
versation, and both sat absorbed in their 
own reflections. In a few minutes, Bessie 
returned, and Mrs. Melville said — 

" Where have you been, my daughter?" 

" To ask God's forgiveness, mother ; and 
as He promised to forgive me, I believe 
He has done it." 

" This, my child, is Faith ; a simple, 
trusting belief, that God means what He 
says, and will do what He promises." 

Jennie looked up, and asked wonder- 
ingly— 

*'Is this all that faith is, mother? 1 
thought it was some very hard thing. If 
this is faith, I have it, for I do believe that 
God will do every thing He promises ; but 
I never knew before that a little child, 
like I am, could have faith. I have heard 
Mr. Kennedy say, that nobody could be a 
6 



62 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



Bincere Christian without it ; but as I did 
not know what it was, I thought I should 
have to wait until I should grow up to bo 
a woman, before I could have it." 

" That, my child, is a mistake which is 
made by a great many persons much older 
than you are. You are just as capable of 
exercising faith as I am ; and the Saviour 
himself thought so, because He told his 
disciples that all who wished to serve 
Him, and go to heaven, must become like 
little children; that is, they must be as 
teachable, and gentle, and loving, as chil- 
dren are ; and more than this, they must 
lean upon their heavenly Father with the 
same affectionate dependence with which a 
little child leans upon its earthly parent. 
Jennie, my dear, when you want any 
thing, no matter what it is, to whom do 
you go for it ?" 

" To you, mother." 

" Do you ever think, when you come to 
me for some very little thing, that I will 
be angry with you, and send you away, 
and tell you I will not be troubled with 
such small matters ?" 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 63 



"No, mother, you have never told me 
BO yet ; and I do not think you ever will." 

Neither is God angry with us for ask 
ing him for any thing we want. He does 
not always give it to us, any more than T 
always give you what you ask for ; but, 
Jennie, why do I ever refuse to give you 
any thing ?" 

Because, mother, you do not think 1 
ought to have it." 

"Precisely so, my dear. I would, at 
any personal sacrifice, give you every 
thing in my power which would make you 
better and happier ; and it always grieves 
me to be obliged to refuse you. Do you 
not believe this, Jennie?" 

" Yes, mother, that I do," earnestly re 
sponded the child. 

" Well, my dear, so it is with God. All 
of us, old and young, very often ask him to 
give us what He knows it would be very 
wrong for us to have. Now God is not 
angry with us for asking, because we do 
not know that we ought not to have it; 
but He is so wise, that He knows all 
things ; and it would be just as unkind for 



64 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN 



God to give us what would injure us, just 
because we would like to have it, as it 
would be for me to give you what would 
make you sick, because you asked me for 
it. Now, Jennie, I am never angry with 
you for asking me for any thing ; but if I 
refuse to give it to you, is it right for you 
to sit down and cry, and complain that 
your mother does not love you 

" Oh, no, mother ! I should never think 
about doing that." 

" So then, my dear, God is never angry 
with us for asking ; but when He does not 
give it to us. He is very much displeased 
if we murmur and repine, and say He does 
not love us. Now, Jennie, this is faith ; a 
loving, child-like dependence upon God 
for every thing; a willingness to go to 
him, and ask him even for the smallest 
blessings; and a trusting belief that He 
will surely give them to us, if it is right 
w^e should have them ; and when He does 
aot grant us what we desire, a calm, sweet 
assurance, that like a tender and affection- 
ate Father, as He is, He has only refused 
us, because He knew that what we had 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 65 



asked for would certainlj?- injure us." 

Jennie looked thoughtfully into the fire, 
and after a few moments, said — 

" Mother, if I feel so, have I faith?" 

"Yes, my darling, most certainly you 
have." 

The child mused again, and then said — 
"Must I have any thing beside faith 
to make me a good Christian ?" 

" One thing more, my child : repent- 
ance." 

" What does that mean, mother ?" 

"It means sorrow, Jennie; real, heart- 
felt sorrow, whenever you do any thing 
that displeases God." 

" Why, mother, I do not think it is very 
hard to feel this. I have always, all my 
life, been sorry when I was naughty." 

Mrs. Melville looked fondly and approv- 
ingly at her little daughter, for she knew 
she spoke the truth. Her conscience had 
always been very tender, and she was evei 
pained and grieved whenever she did the 
least thing which she thought would dis« 
please God. At length her mother said — 

" Eepentance, my dear, means that kind 
a* 



66 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



of sorrow which will make us very much 
afraid of doing the same thing over again • 
and will make us ask God very earnestly 
and constantly to help us to avoid that sin 
in future. And besides this, Jennie, it is 
a sorrow for offending God, not because 
we are afraid He will punish us, but be- 
cause we have grieved and disobeyed so 
merciful and loving a Father." 

Jennie thought a little while, and theu 
repeated, musingly, " Faith means to love 
and trust in God, as I do in mother ; and 
repentance means to be very sorry when I 
do Avrong, and to try very hard not to do 
it again. What else does it take, mother^ 
to be such a Christian as the Saviour 
loves?" 

Nothing, my dear." 
Jennie looked up, her large eyes dilated 
with astonishment, and putting her little 
cheek close up to her mother's, she timidly 
whispered — 

Am I a Christian, indeed, mother ?" 

If you have repentance and faith, my 
darling, you certainly are." 

"Mother," she said, earnestly, "if you 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 67 



nave told me all that is meant by repent- 
ance and faith, I think I have both." 

Mrs. Melville clasped her tightly to her 
bosom, and said^ — 

" I believe, my precious child, that you 
have. I believe that you are a good little 
Christian, and I thank God that He has 
thought it right to give me this blessing. 
It is, my dear, what I have asked him 
every day since you were born, to make 
you ; and I have never doubted that He 
would do it. There is one other thing I 
must add, Jennie: it is, that you must 
know and feel that, no matter how much 
you try, you never can do any thing to de- 
serve to go to heaven. Although you are 
a little child, yet you are a sinner ; and if 
you were to die now, young as you are, 
you could not go to heaven, unless your 
merciful and loving Saviour had come 
down into this world, and been punished 
in your place. And all the blessings which 
God gives you here, and all He ever will 
give you in heaven^ will be, not to reward 
you for your goodness, but it will only be 
giving to you the blessings which the Sa- 



68 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAISr. 



viour earned for you by becoming a man, 
and as a man, keeping all tbe command- 
ments, and dying for yon." 

To this Jennie replied — 

would a great deal rather, dear mo- 
ther, have it this way than not. Christ 
never did, and never could do, what was 
wrong ; and I will be more certain to go to 
heaven, if I go on his goodness, than if I 
tried to go on my own. Won't I, mother?" 

*^Yes, my child, you certainly will. 
Every day, and every hour, you and I do 
something wrong ; and if only those could 
ever go to heaven who deserved to go, not 
one human being from our sinful world 
could ever reach that blessed home. Now, 
Jennie, besides having repentance and 
faith, can you trust only in your Saviour's 
righteousness, and expect to go to heaven 
only for his merits?" 

"Oh, yes !" cheerfully replied the child, 
** that I can. I always loved the Saviour, 
ever since I first read about his loving lit- 
tle children, and taking them in his arms ; 
and I shall love him now more than ever, 
if He will let me go to heaven on his good- 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 69 



ness, because then I know I cannot fail to 
get there." 

Mrs. Melville looked at the child's ear- 
nest countenance, lighted up as it was with 
an expression of loving trust ; and a pang 
shot through her breast, at the agonizing 
thought — 

"She cannot stay long here; for it is 
written, *0f such is the kingdom of 
heaven.' " 

After a few minutes' silence, Mrs. Mel- 
ville said — 

"Jennie, mother is very glad you chose 
a lamb instead of a bird. You said it 
would remind you of that Saviour who is 
called the Lamb. Must mother tell you 
what the little pet will always remind her 
of?" 

" Yes, mother, I would like to know." 

^*In one part of the Bible, the Savioui 
is called the Shepherd ; and it is said this 
gentle Shepherd will gather the lambs in 
his arms, and carry them in his bosom. 
And whenever I look at your little lamb, 
I will always think of my precious little 
Jennie, folded in the Saviour's arms, and 



70 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



Bhielded in his bosom from every thing 
that can injure or annoy her." 

Bessie had been sitting quietly during 
this conversation, but she had not listened 
very attentively to it ; for her thoughts 
were now almost wholly occupied with the 
pleasant anticipation of the canary bird 
which would belong to her on the morrow. 
As soon as her mother and Jennie seemed 
to have finished talking, she said — 

Mother, are you going with me to 
morrow to buy my bird ?" 

" Indeed, Bessie," replied Mrs. Melville, 
"I had not thought any thing about that. 
Can you not go with Eobin, and let him 
select one for you ? You know he raises 
mocking-birds to sell, and, of course, he 
will know more about purchasing a sound, 
healthy one, than I would." 

" Well, mother, I wish that he would 
go along, to bring the cage home ; and if 
you do not care to go yourself, I thought, 
perhaps, you would let me go with Susie 
Dan vers and her mother. They are going 
after school to-morrow morning." 

"I have no objection to that arrange- 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 71 

ment, my dear. But before you go, you 
must come home and get a clean apron, 
and brush your curls a little ; for you know, 
Bessie, you do not always look very tidy 
after playing about with the girls during 
the recess." 

"Well, I will, mother," replied Bessie 

"And after dinner to-morrow," said Mrs. 
Melville, " I will send Eobin down to the 
plantation, to see if a lamb can be found 
there for Jennie." 

" Mother," said Jennie, " Bessie is going 
to choose her bird. Could I choose my 
lamb, too ? Day after to-morrow is Satur- 
day ; suppose we go down to the plantation 
ourselves, and get one." 

" Well, my dear," said her mother, " if 
Saturday is a bright, clear day, and not so 
cold as to make me afraid to take you out, 
we will ride down to the plantation. I 
think it will do both my little girls good, 
and I am glad you thought of it. But, Jen- 
nie, I do not wish you to feel certain of 
getting a lamb now. I shall be very sorry 
to see you disappointed, and I am really 
very much afraid that you will have to 



72 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



wait two or three montlis yet, before you 
will be able to get one." 

"Oh! I hope not," replied Jennie. "I 
am so anxious to have my pet, and I do 
so much want to have him now." 

Bessie bounded about for joy. The pur- 
chase of a bird, and a trip to the planta- 
tation, on two consecutive days, seemed 
rather more pleasure than she could enjoy 
quietly ; and she felt obliged to give vent 
to the exuberance of her delight, by clap- 
ping her hands and capering over the floor, 
and saying again and again — 

" I am so happy : oh I I sun so happy 1^ 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN, 7S 



CHAPTER III. 

Bessie always slept in a little couch, 
close beside her mother's bed. Impetuous, 
as she generally was, yet, whenever Jen- 
nie's comfort was concerned, she seemed to 
have all the forethought of maturer years. 
She knew that her delicate little sister en- 
joyed her morning slumber more than the 
sleep of the whole night, and she was par- 
ticularly careful never to do any thing to 
disturb her. At the earliest dawn of the 
next morning, Mrs. Melville felt a little 
hand laid gently upon her cheek. Bessie 
was kneeling on the couch, close beside her, 
and as her mother opened her eyes, whis 
pered, Mother, do you not think Fanny 
is very late making the fire this morning?" 

"Why, my love, it is quite dark yet. 
What makes you in such a hurry to get up 
this morning ?" 

"Oh mother!" said she, "I have been 



74: THE LITTLE EPISCOPALLAJ^T. 

dreaming all night about birds and lamhs , 
and I have been awake a long time, and 
am tired trying to go to sleep again ; so I 
want to get up." 

*'But, Bessie," whispered her mother, 
" you cannot get up until the fire is made ; 
and I wish you to lie very still, and not 
talk any more. Poor little Jennie had a 
fever last night, and did not rest well ; and 
now that she is sleeping so quietly. I wish 
that she could have a sweet, refreshing 
nap." 

This was a sufficient quietus for Bessie, 
She whispered, ^'Poor little Jennie ! I am 
so sorry she is sick ;" and covering herself 
up snugly in her couch, she lay perfectly 
still, while visions of beautiful yellow 
birds, and handsome japanned cages, 
chased each other in rapid succession 
through her mind. The time seemed to 
her interminable, and once or twice she 
felt sorely tempted to ask her mother if 
she had not better ring for Fanny ; but a 
single thought of her sister was sufficient 
to allay her impatience, and she waited 
□ uietly at least, if not patiently, until the 



THE LITTLE EPISCOrALIAN. 75 

welcome sound of Fanny's approaching 
footstep at length greeted her ear. As 
soon as the fire was made, she asked Fanny 
if there was one in the dining-room. To 
this, Fanny replied in the negative. Bessie, 
although she was so anxious to get up, had 
yet heroically determined that, rather than 
disturb her sister, she would lie still in 
bed until the fire was made in the dining- 
room, and then run down stairs and dress 
there. Accordingly, she told Fanny to 
come and let her know whenever she was 
ready for her. At last, the time came 
when she could leave her couch ; she took 
her little shoes in her hand, for fear of 
making a noise, and ran shivering down 
stairs ; and then her tongue was loosed, 
and her words flowed with a volubility 
sufficient to atone for the restraint she had 
imposed upon herself while in her mother's 
chamber. 

After she was dressed, she knelt down, 
and in her own childish way thanked God 
for having preserved her through the night, 
and asked his protection for the ensuing 
•iay ; asked him to help her to be a good 



7H THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



child ; but her last, and perhaps most ear- 
nest petition was, Please to make dear 
Jennie well" by the time she came home 
from school. 

Mrs. Melville had never, from the time 
Her children could frame a sentence, allowed 
them, as a fixed habit, to say their prayers 
at her knee, as mothers are so apt to do 
She feared lest they might imagine they 
were praying to her ; and, besides, if any* 
thing should prevent her hearing them, 
they would have become so dependent 
upon her for the very words they were to 
use, that without her assistance their devo- 
tions must be altogether neglected. She 
frequently talked to them about prayer, 
and told them of some things for which 
they must invariably ask; and that, besides 
these, they might go to their heavenly Fa 
ther, as they would to an earthly parent, 
and ask for any thing they wanted. Oc- 
casionally she would hear their little 
prayers, fearing, lest in their childish ig- 
norance they might, perhaps, use language 
so familiar as to become irreverent ; but in 
most instances she had herself learned a 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 77 

lesson, instead of giving one, and had ar- 
dently wished that she could imitate their 
Bimple and affectionate trust. 

After her prayer, Bessie seated herself 
in her chair, and taking her Prayer Book, 
read the Epistle which came in the regular 
order. 

This plan Mrs. Melville had adopted, 
because these selections from the sacred 
volume generally contain some great truth 
or doctrine, embodied in a few words. She 
required them to go regularly through 
with the Epistles and Gospels for Sundays 
and holy days, reading the Epistle in the 
morning, and the Gospel at night. Ex- 
cept in the services for Passion Week, these 
are usually so short, that even a child, al- 
together averse to religious duties, would 
scarcely complain of the requisition ; and 
she found that her children, from choice, 
most generally read both at the same time. 
As soon as they had read through them 
all, they began again at the First Sunday 
in Advent; and in this way, without at 
any one time taxing their memories to com- 
mit a single passage, at the ages of eight 
7* 



78 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN*. 

and eleven, they could repeat about half 
the Epistles and Gospels in the Prayei 
Book, without being at all conscious when 
they had learned them. 

Bessie had now finishad her reading, 
her book lay open upon her lap at the 
Gospel appointed for the Twenty-First 
Sunday after Trinity, and her finger rested 
upon the words, The fever left him." 

She was looking intently into the fire, 
and was so absorbed in thought, that she 
did not hear her mother's soft footstep 
approaching. Mrs. Melville walked up 
very quietly and touched her shoulder; 
and as Bessie started, and looked round, 
her mother said — 

" And what is my little daughter think- 
ing so deeply about? her canary bird, is it 
aot?" 

"No, mother," replied she, sadly. "I 
had forgotten all about my bird. I was 
reading about the nobleman's son who was 
cared by the Saviour, without his ever 
going to see him ; and he had a fever, too : 
just what is the matter with Jennie. And 
I was wishing, mother, that He was in this 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 79 

world now, so that I might go and ask 
him, please to cure her too." 

*'My child," replied her mother, as hei 
eyes filled, **you can ask him now jnst as 
well as the nobleman could." 

"Do you mean by praying to him, mo- 
ther?" 

Yes, my dear, that is precisely what I 
mean." 

*^ I did that this morning ; but, mother, 
that is not like looking up into his face, 
and seeing him when I ask him." 

"Bessie, my dear, when you pray to 
your Saviour, do you not believe that He 
hears you, just as plainly as He heard the 
nobleman pleading for his son?" 

Yes, mother, I believe it ; but I think 
I would be a little more certain if I could 
see him." 

" I am not surprised, my child, to hear 
you say this, for all of us, young and old, 
find it difficult to exercise this faith ; but 
it is what we must try all the time to ob- 
tain ; and when we kneel down to ask our 
Saviour for any thing, we must try and 
realize that He is not far off from us, sit 



80 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

ting upon his throne in the heavend, and 
looking down at us, but that He is stand- 
ing close by our side, and listening atten- 
tively to every word we say.'* 

" Mother, do you always feel this way ?" 

"No, my daughter. I always desire 
and try to feel so, but I do not always 
succeed. But come, Bessie, it is time for 
prayers." 

Mrs. Melville and the little girl read the 
Psalter for the morning responsively, and 
then, both kneeling down, Mrs. Melville 
read some two or three of the prayers 
which she thought best adapted to their 
circumstances ; among them, the beautiful 
petition for a sick child ; for although her 
little Jennie seemed but slightly indis- 
posed, still the mother's heart yearned to 
carry her to that Saviour who alone could 
give her health and strength. At the con 
elusion of this prayer, the mother and 
child together repeated the Lord's Prayer. 

When their devotions were concluded, 
and they had resumed their seats, Bessie 
said — 

" Mother, what is the reason that in the 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 81 



prayers at home, and in the morning and 
evening service for the Church, the Prayer 
Book always puts in the Lord's Prayer ?" 

"Come here, Bessie, and I will show 
you." 

Mrs. Melville went to the stand, and 
opened the large Bible at the eleventh 
chapter of St. Luke's Gospel, and pointed, 
while Bessie read — 

" When ye pray, say : Our Father," &c. 

Bessie looked up inquiringly at her 
mother, who said — 

" This is the Saviour's own command ; 
and by it I understand him to mean, not 
that we shall never pray in any other 
words, for you know, Bessie, I have always 
tried to impress upon you that you may ask 
God for any thing in any words, provided 
they are reverent. But Christ means to tell 
us to use this prayer, beside the one which 
we make for ourselves, and therefore the 
Prayer Book introduces it into every act 
of worship, whether in the Christian's pri- 
vate devotions, at the family altar, or in 
the public services of the sanctuary. Now, 
Bessie, in one part of the Bible, God saya^ 



82 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



* Thou shalt not steal in another part of 
the same book, the same God says, ' When 
ye pray, say and I do not think we have 
any more right to set aside one of these 
commandments than the other. Kemem- 
ber, my child, I do not say it is as great a 
sin to neglect saying the Lord's Prayer, as 
it is to steal ; but I do say, that I think we 
have no right to disregard either com- 
mand ; and the Prayer Book seems to pro- 
ceed upon the principle, that nothing 
which God has deemed sufficiently impor- 
tant to command, is to be lightly esteemed 
by us; and, therefore, while it appoints 
that ' the weightier matters' of the law, the 
Ten Commandments, are to be rehearsed 
to the people at every morning service, it 
likewise provides that the smaller injunc- 
tion shall also be attended to, and the 
Lord's Prayer occupy, as the Saviour has 
expressly told us, a prominent place in 
all our devotions." 

Breakfast w^as now brought in, and after 
she had finished her meal, Bessie took her 
spelling-book, and looked over her lesson, 
and studied again the first line In the mill 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 83 



tiplication table, which formed all her ap- 
pointed task. As her mother tied on her 
bonnet, and kissed her before she started, 
she said, smilingly — 

"I suppose, Bessie, I need not repeat 
to-day my regular injunction to you, not 
to loiter after school, but to come home as 
Boon as you are dismissed." 

" Oh, mother ! I will be certain to come 
very quickly to-day, for I am almost crazy 
now to go for my bird. I wish it was din- 
ner-time." 

So saying, the child seized her little 
satchel, and tripped gaily along to school, 
with her cheeks glowing in the bracing 
air. 

Mrs. Melville returned immediately to 
her chamber, to see about her little invalid. 
She kept the room so darkened that she 
could see neither to read nor sew ; and 
wearily the hours passed, as she sat think- 
ing with an aching heart of that storm of 
anguish which she foresaw, none the less 
clearly because the clond which threatened 
it was now no larger than a man's hand. 
She tried earnestly to shake off these 



84 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



gloomy apprehensions, and to trust he^ 
child entirely to the keeping of her Sa- 
viour ; but Mrs. Melville, though a sincere 
Christian, was still a woman and a mother, 
and she could not look without agony upon 
the blight which she saw so surely falling 
upon her child. Ah! absolute submission 
to God's will is a hard thing to attain to. 

Hour after hour passed, and still Jennie 
slept. At last, Mrs. Melville began to 
fear lest this sleep might be unnatural, 
and she crept quietly to the bedside, and 
stood for several minutes watching the lit- 
tle slumberer, who seemed to be enjoying 
a sweet and refreshing repose. 

At length, she awoke, and asked her 
mother, in a languid voice, if it was not 
almost breakfast-time ? 

If you had said dinner-time, my dear," 
replied her mother, you would have been 
much nearer right. You have slept a 
long, long time. I am looking every mo- 
ment for Bessie to come from school." 

" Oh, mother ! why didn't you wake me 
up? I am so sorry I missed going to 
school. I will jump up now and dress 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 85 



quickly, so as to be ready to go with Bes 
sie after dinner." 

"No, you mil not, my darling," said 
her mother. " I have no objection to youi 
getting up, if you wish it ; but you have 
been very feeble for the last few weeks, 
and last night you had a fever. I am go- 
ing to let you stay at home a while, and 
keep me company, until you grow rosy- 
cheeked and strong, like Bessie. Do you 
feel well enough to get up now, or shall I 
have your breakfast brought to you in 
bed?" 

The word "tired" was the epithet which 
Jennie always used to express debility 
and exhaustion ; and she now replied — 

" I would rather get up, mother ; but I 
feel very, very tired this morning. I do 
not feel as if I had been asleep at all." 

Mrs. Melville felt her pulse, and found 
that the fever was gone, but her forehead 
and hands were moist with the dew of that 
heavy perspiration so peculiar to the dis- 
ease, and so exhausting to the strength. 
She persisted, however, in her determi* 
nation to get up; she was just dressed, 
8 



86 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



and her mother was brushing her long 
curls, when Bessie rushed into the room, 
pulled the bell violently, then threw up 
the window-sash, and called loudly for 
Fanny to come quickly, and finally com- 
menced pulling off her apron in the great- 
est haste. 

Mrs. Melville waited, as she usually did, 
until her hurry and bustle had partially 
subsided, and then said, very gently — 

^' Bessie, are you not going to speak to 
your sick sister?" 

Impulsive in every thing, Bessie now 
ran up to Jennie, and putting her arms 
around her, kissed her repeatedly, and 
said — 

" Oh, Jennie ! I am so sorry I did not 
see you when I first came in ; but Susie 
Dan vers and her mother are waiting for 
me, and I was in such a hurry that I did 
not see or think about any thing." 

Fanny now came in with Bessie's clean 
white apron, and in a few minutes she was 
ready to go. 

"I will not be gone long, Jennie," said 
«he, as she bounded out of the room, and 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 87 



I will bring such a beautiful bird home 
with me." 

As the gate closed after her, Mrs. Mel- 
ville exclaimed — 

" There! the thoughtless child has gone 
without any money, and has forgotten to 
take Eobin to bring her bird home." 

So saying, she sent for Eobin, gave him 
her purse, and told him to follow imme- 
diately, and he would soon overtake Bessie. 

About an hour had passed. Jennie was 
sitting with a little table before her, on 
which sat her breakfast, which she was 
vainly endeavoring to eat. A nice hot 
muflS.n, a soft-boiled egg, and a cup of fra- 
grant tea, all combined in vain to tempt 
her appetite. She was trying to coax her- 
self to eat, when she heard Bessie's merry 
ringing laugh. An instant more and she 
was in the room, Eobin following close 
behind, carrying a large handsome cage, 
within whose spacious limits sported a 
beautiful yellow bird, with a ring of black 
delicately pencDled around his neck. 

Jennie's languid eyes lighted up with 
pleasure, as she exclaimed — 



88 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



" Oh, what a beauty he is !" 

"But, Jennie," said Bessie, "just wait 
until you hear him sing ; you never heard 
anything like it in your life." 

As she ceased speaking, the little songs- 
ter mounted on the highest perch, and 
throwing his head back, he sang, and 
warbled, and trilled, until the whole room 
seemed filled with an atmosphere of liquid 
harmony. 

Jennie clapped her thin white hands 
with delight, and said — 

"Oh! he does sing so beautifully. I 
am so glad, Bessie, that you have got him." 

" I am glad, Jennie, that you are pleased 
with him, and think he is pretty. Do you 
know what name I am going to give 
him?" 

"No," said Jennie. "I do not know 
any name pretty enough for him." 

" I do," replied Bessie. " I am going to 
call him Jennie, after you, and Lind, after 
the great singer; so his name will bo 
Jennie Lind." 

Robin laughed, and showed a row of 
very white teeth, as he said — 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 89 



That will never do, Miss Bessie. You 
cannot give your bird that name, because 
it is a male bird." 

. But Bessie could see no impropriety in 
calling her pet (male bird though it was) 
after her sister ; so she persisted in her de- 
termination, and accordingly he was ever af- 
terwards known by the name of Jennie Lind. 

"And, mother," said Bessie, "'just 
think; the man only asked me fifteen 
dollars for the bird and cage, and the 
beautiful Bohemian glass fountain and all ; 
wasn't it cheap, mother?" 

Mrs. Melville smiled, as she replied — 

"I cannot say, my dear, that I think it 
was very cheap. It seems to me that is a 
good deal of money to pay for one bird ; 
however, if it pleases my little daughter, 
and makes her happier, I shall not regret 
that I have spent it. Jennie, now that you 
have seen Bessie's bird, and heard how 
sweetly and merrily he sings, perhaps you 
will change your mind and prefer to have 
one just like it, instead of a lamb ?" 

"No, mother," answered Jennie, "I 
rtill want a meek, gentle little lamb. 



90 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

can look at Be^ssie's bird and hear him 
sing, just as well as if lie belonged to me; 
and my little lamb I can take with me 
wherever I go. I shall teach him to 
follow me all about. Mother, may we go 
to the plantation to-morrow?" 

*'Yes, my love, if the day is pleasant, 
and you are well enough." 

After dinner, while Bessie was prepar- 
ing for school, Mrs. Melville called her to 
her side, and said — 

^'I hope, my dear, you and Mary Gran- 
ville do not cherish any ill feelings towards 
each other on account of what occurred at 
school yesterday ; how is it, my daughter ?" 

Bessie looked ashamed, as she replied— 
I did not have anything to say to her 
mother. She looked cross at me, as if she 
did not want to speak to me ; so I let her 
alone, and said nothing." 

" Oh, Bessie, Bessie," said her mother, 
" how grieved I am to hear that you have 
refused to speak to a little companion. 
My child, you ought to try very, very 
hard to get such feelings out of your 
young heart. The blessed Saviour when 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 91 

he was in this world, althougli he was so 
persecuted, never acted so towards any 
human being; but more than this, when 
those same persecutors came to him to heal 
their sick friends, or to do them any favor, 
they always found him ready and willing 
to help them. My dear little daughter, 
your mother is really distressed, but your 
heavenly Father is more grieved and dis- 
pleased than I am." 

"Mother," replied Bessie, "I was per- 
fectly willing to speak to Mary, and I do 
not feel unkindly towards her now, but I 
was afraid from her looks that she would 
not speak to me, and you know it would 
make me feel very badly for her to treat 
me so before all the girls." 

" Now, Bessie, I dare say Mary felt just 
as you did. Both of you were willing to 
speak; neither felt any resentment, but 
each one had too much pride to be the first 
to acknowledge her error. Now, my child, 
I am going to tell you what is right, and 
what I wish you to do. I want you, when 
you go to school this afternoon, to go up 
to Mary, and offer her your hand, and tell 



92 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN'. 



her you are very sorry for what you said 
to her at the church yesterday ; ask her to 
forgive you, and be your friend again. 
Will you do this, my daughter?" 
Bessie slowly shook her head, and said — 
Oh, mother ! that will be very hard to 

do." 

Yes, my dear, it will not be very plea- 
Bant; but suppose God, instead of telling 
us in the Bible that if we confess our sins 
he will certainly forgive us, should say 
that we are so very wicked, and it is so 
hard for him to pardon us, that he will not 
do it at all ; what then, Bessie?" 

"Oh, mother!" said she earnestly, "that 
would be too dreadful! Then after we 
had committed one sin, we might as well 
stop trying to go to heaven, for we could 
never get there." 

She paused an instant, and then com- 
pressing her lips, as if trying to fix her 
determination unalterably, she said with 
firmness — 

"I will do it, motner. I will go this 
minute, before school begins. I wish Mary 
was here now, for I am afraid I will get 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 93 



out of the notion before I see her. But, 
mother, suppose she will not speak to me, 
it will make me feel very badly, and I ex- 
pect I will get angry again, and say some 
thing naughty." 

I have no idea, my child, that Mary 
will refuse to speak to you ; and even if 
she should, you must not get angry at all, 
but feel satisfied that you have done your 
duty. And as to your getting out of the 
notion, as you say, I hope you cannot be 
so easily deterred from doing what you 
know you ought to do ; but if you should, 
just think how much God has forgiven 
you, and I venture to say it will instantly 
put to flight every feeling of unkindness 
towards Mary. But come, my dear, it is 
high time you were going." 

Bessie kissed her mother and Jennie, 
but she was now so troubled that she did 
not even take a farewell look at her bird. 
She started to school very rapidly, but had 
not proceeded far before she slackened her 
pace, and was soon so deeply absorbed in 
her own reflections, that she was entirely 
unconscious how slowly she was walking. 



94 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



A rapid step on the pavement behind hei 
was unheeded, and she started as a well- 
known, manly voice said — 

And what is my little friend Bessie in 
such a brown study about ?" 

Her face flushed as she looked up and 
answered very seriously — 

"I am in a great deal of trouble, Mr. 
Kennedy," 

The good minister could not forbear 
smiling, for there was something irresistibly 
ludicrous in the child's appearance and 
manner; but he saw instantly that what- 
ever the trouble might be, she, at least, 
considered it verv serious, so he took her 
affectionately by the hand, and said — 

Well, Bessie, let me hear what is the 
matter; perhaps I may be able to help 
you out of your distress.'' 

Bessie detailed with scrupulous exact- 
ness every particular of her difficulty with 
Mary Granville, and all that had since oc- 
curred with reference to it between her 
mother and herself, and finally concluded 
by telling him of the exceedingly painful 
duty she had now to perform. 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 95 



Mr. Kennedy heard her patiently and 
kindly, and when she had finished, said 
gently— 

am very sorry two little friends 
should disagree, but particularly sorry 
they should have quarrelled in God's own 
house. Your excellent mother has given 
you the very best advice throughout. 
You have followed it in every other par- 
ticular, you will do so in this, will you 
not, Bessie?" 

"Yes, sir," said Bessie, will do what 
she wishes me to do, because I know it is 
right; but I wish there was some other 
way that was just as right, and easier to 
do. Isn't there any, Mr. Kennedy ?" 

"No, my little girl," said he, "I do not 
know any way to settle this difficulty ex- 
cept by frankly acknowledging your fault. 
The longer you put it off, Bessie, the harder 
it will be, and you have no idea how much 
lighter your heart will feel when this duty 
is done. I do not know any burden more 
intolerable than a weight of unkind feeling 
pressing down upon the soul. Take my 
word for it, Bessie, after you have done 



96 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



what your motlier advised, your little heart 
will be at rest ; the cloud which has now 
settled upon your face will brighten into 
sunshine, your step will regain its elas- 
ticity, and you will be little Bessy Melville 
once more. You do not seem like your- 
self now, and it is only because your con- 
science tells you that you have done wrong^ 
and that there is an unforgiven sin press 
ing upon your soul." 

Bessie walked on a little way in silence, 
and then said in a most piteous tone — 

"I do wish it was not so hard to do 
right." 

Mr. Kennedy was again sorely tempted 
to laugh at the despairing manner with 
which she took up her cross, but she was 
so much in earnest that he restrained his 
mirth, and said very seriously— 

"It is generally hard for both young 
and old to do right. We often find it easy 
enough to do wrong, but whenever we set 
out to please Q-od, and do his will, we find 
a cross to take up at almost every step. 
But, my dear child, let us for one instant 
compare the self-denial you are about to 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 97 

practise for Christ with the self-denial 
which He practised for you. You know 
that He left his blessed home in heaven, and 
spent thirty-three long years in this world 
of sin and suffering. He endured perse- 
cation, and disgrace, and cruelty, and yet 
amid it all he never complained. *He 
opened not his mouth.' He loved you 
well enough to sacrifice the happiness of a 
whole lifetime for you ; will you not love 
him well enough to sacrifice the feelings 
of a moment in order to please him ?" 

"Yes, Mr. Kennedy," replied she, "I 
will ; but," she added, as if afraid her min- 
ister would think better of her than she 
deserved, "remember, I cannot be any- 
thing more than just willing to do it. I 
suspect I ought to feel anxious to do what 
I know will please the Saviour, who has 
done so much for me ; but I do not ; I am 
just barely willing." 

Mr. Kennedy admired the child for her 
jfrankness, and said — 

" Well, my dear, it has been a very hard 
struggle for you to attain even this willing- 
ness ; and the more disagreeable the duty, 

9 



98 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

the more will the Saviour love you for 
performing it, if you do it with a simple 
desire to fulfil his holy will." 

They had now reached the school, and 
as Mr. Kennedy shook her cordially by 
the hand, he said — 

"Bessie, have you a Prayer Book at 
school ?" 

" Yes, sir," replied she, " we read in it, 
and our teacher uses it every' morning for 
prayers." 

" Well, my child, as soon as you go to 
your seat, turn to the Fourth Sunday after 
Easter, and read the Collect. You will 
find something in it that will suit your 
case." 

Bessie found to her regret that the exer- 
cises had begun. She was extremely fear- 
ful with regard to the stability of her reso- 
lution, and was very anxious to have per- 
formed her disagreeable duty without de- 
lay, lest she should, as she expressed it, 
" get out of the notion" before school was 
dismissed. However, she had now no al- 
ternative except to wait patiently, and by 
way of fortifying her resolution more 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 99 

Btrongly, slie took her Prayer Book, ac- 
cording to Mr. Kennedy's advice, and 
turned to the Collect for the Fourth Sun- 
day after Easter. She had only to read 
about three lines before she perceived to 
what he alluded, and as her eyes rested 
upon the words, Grrant unto thy people 
that they may love the thing which thou 
commandest," she felt a sincere desire 
really to wish to do what Q-od now com- 
manded her. At length school was dis- 
missed, and Bessie waited with a throbbing 
heart to see Mary Granville start home, 
thinking that she would run and overtake 
her, and make her explanation as they 
walked along together. But, to her dis- 
appointment, Susie Dan vers and Mary left 
the school-room together. Bessie had a 
dread of settling her difS.culty in the pres- 
ence of a third person, and was already 
beginning to wonder if to-morrow morning 
would not do as well; but then she re- 
membered that to-morrow was Saturday, 
and she was going to spend the day in the 
country, and could not possibly see Mary ; 
the next day was Sunday, and as they at- 



too THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAK. 



tended different places of worship, they 
probably would not meet then; so, un- 
less every thing was settled at once, she 
must remain in this uncomfortable frame 
of mind until Monday; and finally, she 
remembered what Mr. Kennedy had told 
her, " The longer you put it off, the harder 
it will be and, thought she, " K it is ever 
any harder to do than it is now, I know 
ril never do it." 

All these reasons urged her to the im- 
mediate performance of her duty, and at 
length, with desperate resolve, she started 
after Mary, and for fear of giving way, ran 
as fast as she could go, so that ^he had no 
time to waver before she had overtaken 
the little girls. Her heart beat rapidly, 
and her voice trembled, as she resolutely 
extended her hand, and said — 

Mary, I am very sorry for what I said 
to you at the church yesterday. I know 
it was very wrong, and I hope you will 
forgive me." 

" That I will, Bessie," said Mary, frankly 
and cordially. " I think I behaved a 
great deal worse than you did, and I waa 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 101 



Borry a minute afterwards for what I had 
Baid, but I was in too bad a humor to say 
BO. I would have spoken to you this 
morning, but I thought you looked as if 
you did not want to have any thing to say 
to me, and so I wasn't going to have any 
thing to say to you." 

Why, Mary," said Bessie, that is the 
very thing I thought about you ; but you 
see we were both wrong, so let us kiss and 
be friends." 

The little girls, now that they were 
reconciled, were unusually affectionate, 
and the trio walked along in great glee. 
Presently Mr. Kennedy met them, and, as 
he approached, Bessie called out joy- 
ously — 

" It is all fixed, Mr. Kennedy ; it is all 
fixed, and I am so glad." 

Mr. Kennedy smiled affectionately, and 
placing one hand on the head of each, he 
said — 

" I am very glad my little children have 
settled their difficulty, and I sincerely 
irust they will never fall out again. Bes- 
sie, you do not look like the same child 
9* 



102 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN-. 



with wliom I parted at the school this 
afternoon." 

"Oh, no! Mr. Kennedy," said she, "and 
I am sure I do not feel like the same one. 
My heart was so heavy then, and now ii 
is as light as a feather." 

" I thought it would be so," replied Mr. 
Kennedy. " But, Bessie, where is Jennie, 
to-day? She was not with you as you 
went to school, and she is not here now.'' 

" She is sick, Mr. Kennedy ; she had a 
fever last night." 

" I am very sorry to hear that," said the 
minister. " 1 wish I had known it before, 
and I would have gone to see her to-day.'^ 

" Come, go now with me," said Bessie. 

" I cannot, my dear, for I have an en 
gagement this evening ; I will come round 
in the morning." 

"No, sir, you need not do that, for if 
Jennie is well enough to ride, mother is 
going to take us to the plantation. She 
thinks it will be good for Jennie." 

"I dare say it will. I will come to- 
morrow evening after you get back, and 
take tea Avith you, for I have not seen my 



THE LITTIE EPISCOPALIAN. 



103 



little pet Jennie for several days, and now 
that I have heard she is sick, I feel espe- 
cially anxious to see her." 

" Oh ! do come, Mr. Kennedy," said 
Bessie, eagerly, ^^we will all be so glad to 
see you. Can't you let Mrs. Kennedy 
come, too? and please to bring Willie. 
Jennie will be a great deal more pleased 
to see you if you bring him with you." 

" Well, Bessie, it shall all be just as 
you have arranged it. You may tell your 
mother that we will all take tea with her 
co-morrow evening." 

So saying, he pursued his walk down 
the street, and the children went home. 

As soon as Bessie entered the house, 
before she had found out in what part of 
it her mother was, she commenced call- 
ing— 

" Oh, mother, mother I Mary Granville 
and I have made it all up. We are the 
\)est kind of friends now." 

" I am very happy to hear it, Bessie," 
iaid her mother, as the child rushed into 
the room. Are you not glad that you fol- 
lowed mother's advice ?" 



104 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

" Yes, that I am, for my heart feels 
light as a feather, and I am as happy as 
queen." 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAK. 105 



CHAPTER IV 

Saturday morning dawned as bright 
and cloudless as the children themselves 
could have desired, and again Bessie crept 
very quiefly down stairs so as not to dis- 
turb Jennie's morning nap. She found 
Jennie Lind, whose cage was hanging just 
where the bright morning sun shone upon 
it through the window, singing and trill- 
ing at the very height of his voice, and 
she very carefully closed the door, so that 
the sound might not reach her sleeping 
sister. She had just finished her devo- 
tions, and was watching FanLj feeding 
her bird, when her mother Mid Jennie 
came in. 

Jennie looked very pale and feeble, and 
Bessie asked ii she felt well enougk "x) go 
to the plantati<)n. 

*^ Oh, yes ! " replied she ; ^' I must go, for 



106 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



now, since your bird has come, I am so 
anxious to get my pet, too." 

Nothing more was said, for Mrs. Mel 
ville told the children it was time for 
prayers, and immediately they were very 
quiet and orderly. 

Fanny was sent out to call in the othei 
servants, who all seated themselves quietly 
and respectfully, listened attentively to the 
Psalms, and joined in the Lord's Prayer. 
After the exercises were concluded, as 
they were going out of the room, Mrs. 
Melville told Eobin that she wanted the 
carriage after breakfast, to go to the planta- 
tion. 

The little girls enjoyed the ride very 
much. Even Jennie's delicate frame 
seemed to expand with new strength and 
vigor, as she inhaled the pure, bracing 
air of a clear bright winter's day. 

As soon as they reached the plantation, 
the servants thronged around them to give 
them a hearty welcome, and seemed to 
take quite as much pride in extending to 
them the hospitalities of the place as if 
they tJiemselves were the owners, and 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 107 

Mrs. Melville and her children their 
guests. 

A very large basket was brought from 
the carriage, containing separate packages 
of sugar, coflfee, and flour, for each house- 
hold, and as these were distributed by the 
hands of their impartial mistress herself, 
the servants all looked satisfied and grate- 
ful for their Christmas presents. 

After this distribution, Mrs. Melville 
proposed going into the house, but Jen- 
nie's usually patient disposition could 
brook no longer delay ; so she said — 

"Please, mother, may we not go "now 
and choose my lamb ?" 

Are you not cold, Jennie ? do you not 
think it would be better to warm your 
hands and feet first?" 

**0h, no, mother! I am quite warm; 
but," she added instantly, with her usual 
consideration for the comfort of others, 
" if you and Bessie are cold, I can easily 
wait." 

"No, my child," said her mother, "it 
was solely on your account that I proposed 
going to the fire. I am quite comfortable, 



108 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALLAJ^. 

and I am sure Bessie has but little the ap- 
pearance of suffering with cold. So come, 
my children, we will go now." 

Mrs. Melville requested Eobin to take 
Jennie in his arms, fearing lest her feel 
might become cold and damp. The sturdy 
old man picked up the light form of the 
child, and saying, good-humoredly, " Why, 
Miss Jennie, you are no heavier than a 
lamb yourself," he trudged along with 
Mrs. Melville and Bessie. 

A troop of some eight or ten little blacks 
went before, who, anxious to do something, 
had volunteered to guide their mistress 
along a path which she had trodden often 
before most of them were born. 

They then proceeded to the fold, where 
a choice was very soon made, inasmuch as 
Mrs. Melville proved right in her expec- 
tation that there would be but very few 
from which to select. There were only 
four ; but it happened that one of these was 
pm^ely white, beautifally formed, and very 
playful. All were unanimous in agreeing 
that he was just exactly such a one as 
would do for Jennie's pet ; and after some 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 109 

resistance, one of the stoutest boys sue* 
ceeded in capturing him. Eobin resumed 
his light burden, and they all went back 
to the house again, and Jenny requested 
the old man to wash her little pet white 
and clean. After he had gone to do it, 
Mrs. Melville suggested to the children 
that they should go round to the cabins, 
to visit those of the servants who were 
sick, or incapable from their extreme age 
of working out. To this they readily as- 
sented, and Jennie proposed that they 
should first go to see old Aunt Sally. They 
found the old woman sitting by a good 
fire, rocking herself very comfortably, and 
knitting most iDdustriously. Her head 
was enveloped in a clean white handker- 
chief, upon which rested a pair of old- 
fashioned silver spectacles, and in her lap 
was a dirty leaf from a book, whose well- 
worn and well-thumbed corners testified 
to a faithful and constant use. 

The old woman seemed delighted to see 
nem, shook them cordially by the hand, 
and, with the privilege which, at the South, 
usually belongs to the oldest of the blacks 
10 



110 THE LITTLE EFISCOPALTAN, 

on a plantation, took the children in hei 
arms and kissed them ; and putting them 
down again, with a hearty "God bless your 
little souls," she bustled about to provide 
chairs for her visitors. 

Aunt Sally was not at all deficient in 
the loquacity of her race ; and, supposing 
that it devolved on her, as hostess, to en- 
tertain her guests, she talked on with a ra- 
pidity that allowed them no time to inter- 
pose a solitary word. When at last her 
conversational powers seemed somewhat 
exhausted, Jennie asked what leaf that was 
in her lap. 

"A leaf from the good book, child," re- 
plied the old woman, as she handed it to 
her. 

Jennie looked at it, and found it con 
tained a portion of the Sermon on the 
Mount, the whole of the sixth, and com- 
mencement of the seventh chapters of St 
Matthew's Gospel. 

" Aunt Sally," said Jennie, " what made 
you tear the leaf out ? don't you know it 
is a sin to tear the Bible ?" 

" Why you don't suppose I tore it out, 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. Ill 

do you, Jennie ? No, indeed, that is all I 
ever had." 

" Why didn't you ask mother to give 
you a whole Bible?" 

" Well, you see, Jennie, I cannot read 
much. I have to spell almost all the 
words as I go along ; but I have spelled 
this over so often, that I can read it now 
as fast as anybody, and I love to read it 
a great deal better than I would a new 
page that I would have to spell out again." 

"Yes, but Sally," interposed Mrs. Mel- 
ville, "you know the Bible is God's book, 
and you ought to be willing to take some 
trouble to find out what is in it." 

" Yes, mistress," replied she, in the sim- 
plicity of her ignorance, " that is all true, 
but this is the way I thought about it. I 
know that God gave us this Bible, to show 
us how to get to heaven. Now, you see, I 
thought that if I did all that is on this leaf, 
I would be certain to get there ; so I could 
not see what I wanted with any more, but 
I thought I would just keep reading this 
over and over, and try all the time to do 
what it tells me I ought to do." 



112 THE LITTLE EPIBCOPALLAJ^-. 



Mrs. Melville was, for an instant, si 
lenced, for there was a good deal of force 
in the old woman's reasoning. She thought 
for a little while how she should answer 
it, and then said — 

" Sally, suppose some one should write 
you a letter, and tell you that if you would 
go to New York you should have a thou- 
sand dollars : he should then go on and 
tell you the best way to get there, what 
route to take, and at what places to stop, 
and every thing about the journey. This 
should take up one page of the letter, and 
the other three should contain a great 
many words, telling how much the person 
loved you, how anxious he was to see you, 
and what a nice comfortable home he had 
provided for you as soon as you reached 
New York. Now, Sally, do you think 
you would read the first page, and as soon 
as you turned over and began to see that 
he had finished writing about the money, 
and the best way to get it, that you would 
cast it aside with indifference and disgust, 
and say, that all you cared for was the 
money, and if you could only get that, 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN 113 



you would be satisfied ; would you be con* 
tented always to read that first page, and 
never care to see what was on the other 
three?" 

" Oh, no ! ma'am," said Sally, " I would 
not be so ungrateful as that, I would read 
it all, every word of it." 

" Well, Sally, this is just the way you 
are satisfied to do with regard to the Bible. 
This is God's letter to us, and it promises 
to us a far richer reward than all the 
wealth of this world. It tells us the best 
way to reach that heavenly city where all 
this treasure is laid up for us, and offers to 
us, as a guide and helper on the journey, 
that blessed Saviour who will not fail to 
take us there if we only trust him. But 
more than this, this letter tells us how 
much God loves us, how anxious He is 
that we should reach that blessed world, 
so anxious that He gave his well-beloved 
Son to be punished in our place, so that 
we might be rewarded for his sake. And 
yet, besides this, it tells us what a sweet 
blissful home God has provided for us in 
heaven, and how happy we will be there 



114 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

forever ; and it contains most precious as* 
Burances of God's mercy and protection 
all along the pathway of life. Now, 
Sally, is it very gratefal in you to study 
one page of this letter all the time, just to 
find out how you may reach heaven, and 
not care to read another line of it ?" 

The illustration had reached the old 
woman's comprehension; she shook her 
head very thoughtfully as she replied — 

" You are right, mistress ; you are right. 
I never thought that way about it before. 
But if you will give me a Bible, with good 
large letters in it, I will try and read it, 
even if I do have to take the trouble to 
spell out the words." 

" I will, Sally, with the greatest pleasure. 
I will buy one for you on Monday, and send 
Robin down specially to bring it to you.'' 

Jennie now resumed the conversation. 

"Aunt Sally, do you know how to 
pray?" 

" Why, bless you, child," replied the old ^ 
woman in astonishment, and perhaps had 
the interrogator been any other than Jen- 
nie, a little indignation might have blended 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 115 



with her surprise, to be sure I know how 
to pray !" 

" Do you think you pray for every thing 
you need?" 

" Well, I can't be certain about that. I 
pray for every thing that I know I stand 
in need of; I do the best I can, Jennie, and 
if I don't do right, I believe God will for- 
give me, because I don't know any better." 

" Well, now. Aunt Sally, I have a book 
at home that has a great many prayers in 
it for every thing in this world that any 
body can ever want. Then it has a great 
deal from the Bible, all the prettiest parts 
of it ; and besides this, a great many beau- 
tiful hymns. How would you like to have 
such a book as that?" 

The old woman's eyes sparkled with 
pleasure, as she replied, "I should like it 
mightily. Do you say it has the best part 
of the Bible, and these other things be- 
sides ? Then I believe, if mistress will let 
me choose, I will take this book instead of 
the Bible." 

"Perhaps, Sally," said Mrs. Melville, 
" you would like both." 



116 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

"Yes, ma'am ; but this wonld be too 
mucb to ask. I will be satisfied and very 
grateful, if you will give me the one Jen- 
nie told me about. Hymns, too !" she 
added, musingly ; " I love to sing, and I 
can learn them by heart. What is the 
name of this book ?" 

" It is called the Prayer Book, Sally , 
and, next to the Bible, it is the best book 
in the world ; for a large part of it is copied 
from the Bible. But I cannot let you 
choose even this book instead of the Bible. 
They ought always to go together, and I 
will not separate them now, but will give 
you both." 

" I am a thousand times obliged, ma'am," 
replied Aunt Sally, with tears of gratitude 
glistening in her eyes. "I will try very 
hard to spell out both." 

Mrs. Melville now looked at her watch, 
and told her children that they had stayed 
so long with Aunt Sally, they would 
scarcely have time to go round to see all 
the others. As she left the cabin, she 
turned around and said — 

" Sally, there is one place in the Prayer 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 117 

Book whicli I will mark with a pencil, and 
I will turn down the leaf. I wish you to 
Bpell this out first, and read it over twice 
every day, until I come again. Will you 
do this ? It is very short." 

" Yes, ma'am, that I will," replied she ; 
and as they left the house, she stood in the 
door, and they heard her say — 

"Well, well! a great deal out of the 
Bible ; a great many prayers, a great many 
hymns, all in the same book ; it must be a 
wonderful book, indeed !" 

They completed their round of visits, 
and Mrs. Melville spoke words of kind- 
ness, sympathy, and advi(ie, to each and 
all, as their circumstances required ; they 
then returned to the house, where they 
found Eobin and the lamb, which he had 
washed as white as snow, surrounded by a 
group of admiring children. Mrs. Melville 
producea from her pocket a long, beautiful 
blue ribbon, and taking the little creature 
in her arms, she tied around his neck the 
badge which he was henceforth to wear as 
.ong as Jennie lived. Trembling with 
fear, and shrinking timidly from the gaze 



118 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN^'. 



of the crowd around, the lamb nestled it- 
self in Mrs. Melville's arms, and looked up 
into her face with a gentle, pleading ex- 
pression, as if supplicating her protection. 
This disposition was the very one most 
calculated to enlist the affections of little 
Jennie, herself timid, shrinking, and de- 
pendent ; and stroking her hand fondly 
down the back of her pet, she said — 

*^0h, mother! you do not know how 
much I shall love him ! I would rather 
he would look at me once, as he looked at 
you just now, than to sing two or three 
days, like Bessie's Jennie Lind." 

Soon after dinner, Mrs. Melville ordered 
the carriage to go home, for she was anx- 
ious to return before sunset, fearing the 
effect of the chill evening air upon the 
sensitive frame of her little invalid. It 
was late when they arrived, but they found 
a bright cheerful fire which Fanny had 
made to welcome them, and they very 
soon became warm and comfortable. 

When the excitement was all over, and 
she found herself at home, the absolute 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 119 



vsrhose spotless purity and winning ways 
even exceeded her anticipations, Jennie 
began to feel that she was thoroughly ex- 
hausted, and using her accustomed epithet, 

tired," she expressed a desire to lie down 
iipon the sofa. Her mother had just ar- 
ranged her comfortably, and placed hex 
pet close beside her, when the bell rang, 
and Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy, with their 
little son, Willie, were ushered in. 

Willie was a fair-haired, blue-eyed, rosy- 
cheeked boy, with a bright, happy counte- 
nance, and a mouth around which the 
sweetest smile always lingered. There 
was nothing rude or boisterous about him, 
as may be readily imagined from the fact 
that he was the favorite playmate of the 
gentle, thoughtful, quiet little Jennie. 
And yet he by no means resembled her 
in disposition. Full of life, health, and 
activity, one would have thought that he 
would naturally have preferred the society 
of the laughter-loving, frolicsome Bessie, 
more especially as he was very nearly her 
age. But it was not so; he had always 
loved Jennie, and found in her just such 



120 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



a playmate as his boyish aftections de« 
manded ; and doubtless the unknown in- 
fluence of his little companion had done 
much towards softening down the rough- 
ness of a boy's disposition, and while it 
did not render him any the less a boy in 
all his feelings, it yet refined and purified 
his character, by throwing over it some- 
what of the softness and gentleness of 
woman's nature. 

As soon as he entered the room, he 
went directly to the sofa and spoke to Jen- 
nie first, and then shook hands with Mrs. 
Melville and Bessie. He then took a chair 
and seated himself beside Jennie, and they 
were speedily joined by Bessie, and the 
trio had a long, and to them exceedingly 
interesting discussion upon the compara- 
tive merits of lambs and canary-birds, 
Willie being made fully acquainted with 
all the circumstances connected with the 
purchase of the one and the selection of 
the other. At length their topics of con- 
versation seemed exhausted, and they 
paused a while to listen to what was said 
by their elders. 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 121 

Mrs. Melville asked when the bishop 
would make his annual visitation, to which 
Mr. Kennedy replied, in about five weeks ; 
and added, that there were about a dozen 
persons whom he hoped and believed he 
would be able to present as candidates for 
Confirmation. Something was then said 
about the services of the next day, which 
was Christmas, when Bessie started from 
her seat, and running to her mother's 
work basket, took out the little Prayer 
Book, and bringing it to the minister, said — 

^'Please, Mr. Kennedy, show me the 
place in the Prayer Book where it says 
that we must dress the church with ever- 
greens on Christmas." 

Mr. Kennedy smiled, as he replied — 

^'I cannot show it to you, Bessie, for 
there is no such direction there." 

He looked at the child, and there was 
such an expression of surprise and morti- 
fication upon her countenance, that his 
gravity was entirely overcome, and he 
laughed outright and very heartily. 

After a little while, she said, with a very 
•ueful face — 
11 



122 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAK". 

Now, when I see Mary Granville, and 
tell her that, she will be so glad, and will 
Bay, ' There now, Bessie, I told you so, I 
told you so !' " 

Why, Bessie?" said the minister, still 
laughing ; "surely, after yonr very recent. 
difBculty, you and Mary have not been 
discussing church matters again. I am 
afraid you two little girls might be num- 
bered among those who * have zeal, but 
not according to knowledge.' " 

" Yes," said Mrs. Melville, " my little 
daughter is rather too much disposed to be 
a zealous partisan. I want to see her a 
warm-hearted, devoted Churchwoman, lov- 
ing the Church most affectionately, and 
prizing all its ordinances and privileges, 
but at the same time, I would rather see 
her more gentle and winning in her de- 
fence of it. Well, Bessie, tell us now what 
occurred between you and Mary. I should 
think after your serious misunderstanding 
the other day, you would both consider the 
iliscussion of Christmas decorations a rather 
dangerous employment." 

"Oh, mother!" replied' Bessie, "we were 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 123 



Dot quarrelling at all, we were only talk- 
ing. It was after we had made up our 
difficulty, and had agreed to be the best 
kind of friends, as we were walking along 
home, we commenced talking about the 
evergreens ; and Mary asked me where we 
got the notion of making Christmas 
wreaths, and I told her, ' out of the Prayer 
Book, to be sure.' Mary said, ' she wished 
that I would show her the place, for she 
did not see why such a thing as this should 
be in a book called a Prayer Book.' I 
told her I would ask Mr. Kennedy to find 
it for me, and would show it to her on 
Monday. Then she asked me where the 
Prayer Book got such an idea, and I told 
her, 'out of the Bible;' and then I said, 
* Mary, you may rest assured, that every 
thing in the Prayer Book is in the Bible, 
too ; if you cannot find the exact words, 

vou will be sure to find the sense.' And 
%^ 

now, after all, Mary was right, and I was 
wrong ; what shall I tell her when I see 
her on Monday ?" 

Bessie's face resumed its expression of 
chagrin ; and Mrs. Melville and her guests 



124 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

could not but laugh very heartily. As soon 
as he could speak, Mr. Kennedy said — 

"Well, Bessie, I think I may safely 
say, that never before did the Church have 
so hazardous a champion ; and if she had 
not been so careful to follow the Bible in 
all her words and ways, you might find ii 
difficult to prove what you said yester- 
day. Your assertion, however, is literally 
true with regard to the Prayer Book : * if 
you cannot find the exact words in the 
Bible, you will be sure to find the sense.' 
Now, in this instance, although there is 
not one word said in the Prayer Book 
about Christmas decorations, yet it is a 
time-honored custom of the English branch 
of the Church to dress it with evergreens at 
that time as a token of grateful rejoicing on 
our Saviour's birth-day. There are passa- 
ges in the Scriptures and the Prayer Book 
which call on nature to rejoice in Grod, bid^ 
ding the floods clap their hands, the hills be 
joyful, and forests to break forth into sing- 
ing. The song of the three Hebrew chil- 
dren says, * all ye green things upon the 
earthy bless ye the Lord.' It is in the spirit 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN 125 

of such passages that we bring the evergreen 
branches into onr chui'ches at Christmas, 
when full of joy for our Saviour's birth. 
When children chanted their hosanna to 
him, as he entered the holy city and temple 
in triumph, they bore palm branches in 
their hands, beautiful emblems of victory. 
Here is a verse, Isa. Ix. 13, which tells 
us of the cedar, and other precious woods 
that were used in building the magnificent 
temple in Jerusalem. 

*' ' The glory of Lebanon shall come unto 
thee; the fir-tree, the pine-tree, and the 
box together, to beautify the place of my 
sanctuary.' 

" It is sometimes quoted to show the pro- 
priety of decking our churches with ever- 
greens at Christmas, though such a use of 
the words is only accommodating them 
perhaps to our pui3)ose." 

Bessie was none the less happy to find 
the text so suited to her wish, and deter- 
mined to show it to Mary. 

" Ah, Bessie !" said Mr. Kennedy, very 
seriously, ^' I am afraid you are more de- 
lighted to find that you were right in your 
11* 



126 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



assertion, than you are to notice the exact 
correspondence between tlie Churcli and 
the Bible. Now, my little children, all of 
you, listen to me (and, as he said this, he 
clasped three little hands in one of his;) 

listen to a word of advice about the way 
in which you should talk of these things 
among your young friends. 

"I would have you love the Churoh 
dearly; she is God's Church, and Christ 
loved her, and gave himself for her. She 
is fair to look upon, and her voice is sweet ; 
yes, she is a very dear mother, that always 
speaks the truth, and speaks it most affec 
tionately. Love her, then, as much as you 
can, and love to talk about her, and do all 
that you can to make other people admiro 
her too. But avoid a boasting, arrogant 
way of speaking; treat the opinions of 
others with respect and kindness. Little 
children should be modest and peaceable 
and gentle ; I think it would be better if 
they would leave controversy for older 
heads, and all follow the advice of their 
parents until they grow up. It was enough 
for you, dear Bessie, to see your own dear 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 127 



church in her Christmas dress ; but it was 
no business of yours to set your neighbors 
right. When you asked Mary Granville 
why her church was not decorated, was it 
the question that made her angry, or was 
It the way you said it?" 

" I am afraid it was the way 1 said it." 

" Weil, Bessie, I shall not say any more, 
lest you may think I am scolding you; 
but remember one thing," added Mr. Ken- 
nedy, smiling, as he rose to go, "if there 
is to be any fighting done in my parish, I 
must arrange the battle ; so, Bessie, do not 
shake your little fist at your friends who 
follow not with us, until I let you know 
that I am ready." 

Mrs. Melville detained the minister with 
a request that he would conduct their even- 
ing devotions. To this he readily assented, 
and after the prayers he talked to them 
for about ten minutes upon the observance 
of Christmas, and spoke with great feeling 
about Him whose humanity was cradled in 
a manger, and whose birth-place was a 
stable, but whose divinity "the heaven ol 
heavens cannot contain." His language 



128 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

was SO plain and familiar, that servants and 
children understood him perfectly, and 
gained a far more correct appreciation of 
the use and advantages of Christmas ser- 
vices than they would have done from the 
most elaborate pulpit discourse. 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN, 129 



CHAPTER V. 

Christmas morning dawned — clear, 
pure, and cloudless ; and as Jennie always 
requested that on Sunday morning she 
might be awakened early, so as to be 
ready for Sunday school, Bessie was not 
under the necessity of placing any restraint 
either upon her tongue or her movements, 
but was at liberty to make as much noise 
and to talk as rapidly as she pleased while 
she was dressing. 

She called out Christmas gift ! Christ- 
mas gift /" to every one who crossed the 
threshold of the 'room, and then seeing 
Robin in the yard below, she ran to the 
window, and, tapping on the pane to call 
his attention, greeted him with the same 
salutation. 

Mrs. Melville had left her room before 
the children were up, and returned while 
Bessie was yet standing at the window. 



130 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALI i^J^". 



As soon as slie perceived her mother, she 
repeated the same words, to which Mrs. 
Melville replied — 

hope both my little girls will enjoy 
their Christmas very much; and that as 
this day combines the holy remembrances 
of the Saviour's Nativity with the or- 
dinary privileges of the Lord's Day, it will 
be a profitable as well as a pleasant day/' 

Bessie waited a little while, and then 
finding that her mother intended to say no 
more, she asked — 

" Mother, did you not get us any Christ - 
mas presents at all? You always have 
them sitting on the bureau when we get 
up in the morning, but I have looked all 
over the room and have not seen any yet." 

"Yes, my child, your mother has not 
forgotten you ; but, Bessie, I want you and 
Jennie to give me a Christmas present too." 

Jennie unceremoniously darted away 
from Fanny, who was curling her hair, 
and putting her arms around her mother's 
neck, said — 

" I should be too glad, dear mother, to 
have something to give you. I haven't 



\ 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 131 



any thing that I care much about except 
my lamb ; but I will give that to you if 
you would like to have it." 

^'JSTo, my darling, I do not want your 
little pet, for I love it a great deal better 
as yours, than I would if it belonged to 
me." 

" Well, mother, what is it?" interrupted 
the impetuous Bessie ; " what in the world 
can we give you ?" 

I wish you, my little children, to ex^ 
ercise some patience about receiving these 
presents. This is God's holy day, as well 
as our Lord's birth-day, and I am very 
anxious that you should go through with 
its services understandingly and heartily. 
I do not wish you to have your gifts before 
to-morrow; and the Christmas present I 
desire from you is, that you will acquiesce 
in this decision of mine, not unwillingly 
and reluctantly, but pleasantly and cor- 
dially. Will you do this, my children?" 

Both the little girls seemed to think 
their mother's request a very moderate 
one ; and both agreed without a ncomentV 
hesitation to this arrangement. 



132 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



Nothing more was said for a few ino« 
ments, when Bessie, with her accustomed 
truthfulness, asked— 

You do not think I promised not to 
think about my present to-day, do you ? 
Is that what you meant, mother ? I would 
be afraid to make that promise, for I know 
it will come into my mind a hundred times. 
But I will try my best, mother, and think 
about it just as little as I possibly can. 
Will that do, mother ?" 

That is all I ask, my dear. I know it 
will be just as you say ; the thought of 
that present will come into your mind very 
many times during the day, and I do not 
wish you to drive it out hy sitting down 
and saying, ' I will not think about it,' for 
that will be the surest way to keep it in 
your mind ; but I wish you to try and be 
interested in the services, and keep your 
mind filled with thoughts of that blessed 
Saviour, who, this day, eighteen hundred 
and fifty -three years ago, was lying, a little 
helpless babe, cradled in a manger." 

Bessie, in her prayers that morning, 
made a special petition that God would 



THE LITTLE EFlSCOPALlAiSr. 133 



help her not to think about her Christmas 
present all through the day." 

The children went to Sunday school, 
and their teacher took advantage of the 
wreaths and branches all around them to 
call their attention particularly to the in- 
fancy of our blessed Saviour; and sur- 
rounded as they were with the tokens of 
rejoicing at His birth, it was not difficult 
to make them realize that it was an actual 
event, and that He was once as really and 
truly a human babe, as any other infant 
they had ever seen. 

Before the school was dismissed, the 
minister addressed the children, and in 
language adapted to their capacity, told 
them why Christmas was one of the feasts 
of the Church, how long it had been ob- 
served, and how it ought to be regarded 
by both young and old. By the time the 
Sunday school was over the children were 
much more thoughtful, and began to re- 
gard the day, not so much as a time set 
apart for boisterous mirth and foolish mer- 
riment, as a season of grateful thanksgiv- 
ing to Him who " when He took upon Him 
12 



134 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

to deliver man, did humble himself to be 
born of a virgin." 

As is customary in all Episcopal 
churches on Christmas day, after the usual 
services in the morning, the Holy Com- 
munion was administered. Mr. Kennedy 
had never adopted the custom practised in 
our cities and larger towns, of dismissing 
his congregation before the administration 
of the Sacrament ; for he could find 
nothing in the teachings of the Bible or 
Prayer Book to justify him in thus shut 
ting out a large portion of his congregatioii 
from witnessing the most solemn and im- 
pressive of all the Church's services, and 
one well calculated to touch and soften 
even the most obdurate heart. 

He had in his church a small choir, 
which sang very sweetly, without any pre 
tension whatever to great cultivation ; and 
they sang that day, for the first time, the 
Boul -thrilling Trisagion. 

Mrs. Melville's children were kneeling 
on either side of her, and as the voices 
swelled out the first Holy," she felt little 
Jennie start, as if by an electric touch ; and 



THE LITOLE EPISCOPALIAN'. 135 

before the last strain had. died away, a 
low, stifled sob from the kneeling Bessie, 
told how deeply her little heart was 
touched. Although they remained on 
their knees long after the music had 
ceased, yet when they arose, Jennie's 
mother noted, almost with a feeling of awe, 
the expression of rapture that lighted up 
the child's face. 

After the services were concluded, the 
three went quietly out of church, and 
walked home without exchanging a 
word. Each seemed absorbed in her 
own reflections, and it was not until they 
found themselves seated by the fire in the 
dining-room, that Bessie said abstractedly, 
and more as if she were thinking aloud 
than addressing herself to any one — 

" ' Therefore with angels and archangels!' 
I never before heard anything half so 
beautiful as that ; I was deeply affected, 
and felt as if I could cry until my very 
heart would break." 

" Oh ! I did not feel like crying, did 
you, mother? I felt as if I were almost 
m heaven, and listening to the very song 1 



136 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

would sing there. Mother, do you not 
think it is beautiful enough to be sung in 
heaven ?" 

" Yes, my daughter, that is precisely 
the feeling I had when I heard this morn- 
ing, for the first time, the Trisagion chanted. 
Among all the chants of our beautiful ser- 
vice, this alone seems to leave out of view 
our frailties and imperfections. Even the 
exulting strains of the Gloria in Excelsis 
and the magnificent Te Deum are subdued 
and saddened by the penitential confession 
and the appeal for mercy, and the glorious 
ascriptions of praise are interrupted by the 
entreating voice of supplication : — 

" *Thou that takest away the sins of the 
world, have mercy upon us.' 

"'Vouchsafe, O Lord, to keep us this 
day without sin.' 

"But in the Trisagion the soul seems 
as it were to forget itself for an instant, 
and to be lost in the transcendent glories 
of God , to forget that it is still chained 
down by the fetters of mortality, and en- 
compassed by infirmity and sin ; it seems 
to soar far, far away from this lower world, 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 137 

and to approach near enough to heaven tc 
catch the echo of the song which angels 
and archangels sing around the throne, 
and^ involuntarily as it were, lends it3 
own voice to swell the triumphant chant — 
" * Heaven and earth are full of thy 
glory. Glory be to thee, Lord most 
high.' 

" Yes, my child, I verily believe that, 
if anything we learn on earth will go with 
us to heaven, it will be the Trisagion." 

" What do you call it, mother ?" asked 
Bessie. 

Trisagioo, my dear. It is a long, hard 
word for a little girl like you to pronounce, 
but when I tell you its meaning perhaps 
you can remember it. It is a Greek word, 
and means ^ thrice holy,' because in it the 
word holy is three times applied to God. 
I said just now, my childrcD, that the soul 
seemed in this exulting chant to forget for 
a moment its frailties and sins. But it is 
only for a moment ; and from the very 
confines of heaven, with the tones of the 
angelic music still ringing in its ear, the 
Church teaches it to sink into the very 

12* 



138 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



depths of humiliation and penitence, and 
to say, in a voice of heart-broken confes 
sion — 

* We do not presume to come to this 
thy table, merciful Lord, trusting in our 
own righteousness. We are not worthy 
so much as to gather up the crumbs under 
thy table.' 

Oh ! my children," added Mrs. Mel- 
ville, her countenance glowing with ani- 
mation, " all the books ever written by 
man, since the creation of the world, do not 
contain so great sublimity and so touch- 
ing solemnity as are embodied in that 
simple transition from the loftiest heights 
of praise to the lowest depths of contrition. 
One moment the soul is caught up in an 
ecstasy of rapture by a glimpse of what it 
shall be hereafter, the next it is subdued 
and melted by a realizing sense of what it 
is now." 

Mrs. Melville ceased to speak, but the 
glow of excitement still rested upon her 
face, and Jennie gazed lovingly and ad- 
miringly upon those features, on which 
the traces of youthful beauty still lingered, 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAK. 139 

and whiclij when lighted up, as they wero 
now, were truly handsome. At last she 
Baid — 

" Mother, does it make you happier to 
go to Communion ?" 

"Yes, always, my child," replied her 
mother, if I go in a right spirit ; but why 
do you ask, Jennie ?" 

" Because your face looks so bright a/nd 
beautiful, dear mother," replied the child. 
" You look now as if you were a great 
deal happier than you are every day, and 
I could not think of anything to make 
you so, unless it were going to Commu- 
nion." 

" Well, my dear, that is precisely what 
does make me feel happy to-day. I en- 
joyed all the services more than usual, 
but it seemed to me that I felt every word 
of the Communion Service, and realized its 
preciousness more fully than I ever did be- 
fore ; and I do not think I ever thanked 
God so heartily as I have done this day, 
that He has kept me in the fold of our 
own Church, that He has given me 
for my own use this beautiful and most 



140 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

comforting Liturgy, and has taught me 
how to love it and profit by it." 

She paused, and in a little while Jennie 
said, sadly and imploringly — 

" I wish I was only old enough to go to 
the Communion. I should love to feel aa 
happy, dear mother, as you look." 

"Why must you wait, Jennie, "ontil 
you are older? Why not go now, my 
child, if you really desire to go ?" 

Jennie looked at her mother in astonish- 
ment, and replied earnestly — 

"Oh, mother! I am not good enough 
yet to go." 

"Do you think, my dear, that all who 
go to that sacred table, go because they 
are so good ?" 

" Yes, I thought so, mother. All my 
acquaintances who go there, I know, are 
good Christians, and I suppose all the 
others are, too." 

"Well, now, Jennie, take your Prayer 
Book and find the Communion Service, 
and let us see if that teaches us that this 
holy feast is designed for people who feel 
themselves to be very good." 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 141 



Jennie opened her book at tlie appointea 
place, and looking up at her mother, said — 

" It is a long service ; what part of it do 
you wish me to look at?" 

"The General Confession," replied her 
mother. But, Jennie, before you read it, 
just glance at the rubric above it, and see 
if those persons who use this Confession 
are the same who receive the Holy Com- 
munion." 

Jennie looked at it, and said — 

" Yes, mother, for it says, * This Confes- 
sion shall be made by the Priest, and al\ 
those who are minded to receive the Holy 
Communion.' " 

"Now, Jennie, read aloud the Confession 
and let us see if we think the people who 
use these words can be very good in their 
own opinion." 

Jennie read slowly — 

" * We acknowledge and bewail our man 
ifold sins and wickedness, which we, from 
time to time, most grievously have com- 
autted, by thought, word, and deed, against 
;hy Divine Majesty, provoking most justly 
thy wrath and indignation against us. We 



142 THE LirfLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



do earnestly repent, and are heartily sorr^ 
for these our misdoings ; the remembrance 
of them is grievous unto us ; the burdei) 
of them is intolerable.' " 

"Now, my daughter," said Mrs. Mel- 
ville, " are these the confessions of those 
who are sinners, or of those who might 
call themselves righteous and good?" 

"I shoi^Fd think, mother, they are the 
confessions of those who are sinners." 

" So they are, my dear ; and yet the 
Church puts these words of self-abasement 
into the mouth of every communicant, and 
requires that all who approach that sacred 
table shall first use these expressions of 
self-accusation. So then, Jennie, I should 
rather think the Church expects those who 
feel that they are great sinners to go to the 
Communion ; wouldn't you think so ?" 

" Yes, mother," replied she, in a tone of 
mingled doubt and wonder ; and after a 
little pause, she said — 

Then why do not all sinners go, mo- 
ther?" 

"Because, my dear, there are certain 
feelings which these sinners must have 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 143 



before they can be welcome guests there. 
Read the Invitation, Jennie, and see what 
these feelings are. Christ has only prom- 
ised a blessing to those who go in a right 
frame of mind; and if persons presump- 
tuously go without it, so far from receiving 
a blessing, they receive a curse even at that 
feast which a loving Saviour himself has 
spread. Let us hear the Invitation, Jennie." 
She read— 

" ^ Ye who do truly and earnestly repent 
you of your sins, and are in love ana 
charity with your neighbors, and intend to 
lead a new life, following the command- 
ments of God, and walking from hence- 
forth in his holy ways ; draw near with 
faith, and take this Holy Sacrament to 
your comfort.' " 

''Now, Jennie, this invitation, to draw 
near with faith, and take this Holy Sacra- 
ment, is addressed to all those who, although 
they are sinners, are truly sorry for their 
sins, have no ill-will towards any human 
being, but have feelings of kindness for 
all ; and who intend, by God's grace, to try 
hereafter and live more in accordance with 



144 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

his holy will than they ever did before 
These are the feelings which every com" 
municant is required to have, and this is 
all the preparation that is necessary ; and 
every person who goes to that table in this 
state of mind, anxious to be forgiven, and 
to be made better, receives a peculiar 
blessing from the Saviour himself And 
as it is a remembrance of our suffering and 
dying Saviour ^ as the broken bread re- 
minds us of his broken body, and the wine 
poured out, of his shed blood ; and as we 
remember that his body was broken, and 
his blood shed for us, our hearts must glow 
with affectionate devotion towards him 
who thus loved us, and gave himself for 
us, and we must feel heartily sorry for 
every offence against so loving and tender 
a Friend." 

Jennie looked thoughtfully into the fire 
for several minutes, and then said rather 
suddenly — 

"Mother, does Mr. Kennedy think aa 
you do about the Communion ?" 

'^Yes, my child; Mr. Kennedy thinks 
just as the Prayer Book teaches. I have 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 145 



not, my dear, been giving you my own no 
tions. You have read for yourself the 
teachings of the Church." 

"Mother, you said just now that every 
communicant who went in the right spirit, 
received a blessing. What blessing, mo- 
ther?" 

"I cannot tell, Jennie, precisely what 
blessing he receives ; but this I believe, 
the Saviour gives to each one the blessing 
which he most needs. For instanceig He 
might give you strength to resist some pe- 
culiar temptation which has always before 
overcome you ; He might give me comfort 
in some heavy bereavement, while to an- 
other He might give grace to bear up under 
some bodily sickness or weakness. The 
Church teaches us that, while one design 
of this Holy Sacrament is * to continue a 
perpetual memory of his precious death 
and sacrifice,' it is, besides this, a channel 
through which the Saviour sends us bless- 
ings ; such blessings, too, as He gives us, 
generally, not at other times and in other 
ways. It is not for us presumptuously to 
ask why He does this ; why He chooses to 



146 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



convey great blessings to us through so 
simple a means. "We must meekly and 
thankfully receive * these innumerable 
benefits' in his own appointed way, with- 
out questioning whether He could bestow 
them otherwise." 

Oh, mother!" said the child, solemnly 
and sadly, " how I wish I had known all 
this before I went to church this morning ! 
I staid away from the Communion table, 
and perhaps, if I had gone, the Saviour 
might have given me a blessing, which I 
will never have now while I live. How 1 
do wish I had known that I could go ! I 
do think, dear mother, that I am sorry foi 
all my sins ; I know I have not any un 
kind feeling towards anybody, and I do 
earnestly desire to be a Christian, and in- 
tend to try to be one all my life. Did you 
not say, mother, that if I felt this way^ I 
might go to that holy table, even though I 
am a very little girl ?" 

" Yes, my dear, I told you so, but not 
on my own authority. It is the Church, 
Dot your mother, who says this." 

Jennie seemed to be so much amazed to 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. Ii7 

find that site possessed all the qualifications 
for a worthy communicant, that she could 
scarcely be convinced it was true, and, still 
afraid that her mother's decision might be 
too lenient, she asked again — 

" I wonder if Mr. Kennedy will think I 
may go next time ?" 

Yes, my darling, he will without 
doubt, for Mr. Kennedy has neither the 
disposition nor the power to require more 
of you than the Prayer Book does. But, 
my child, he cannot rely on what your 
mother or any one else may tell him about 
your views and feelings. He must talk 
with you himself, and find out how you 
think and feel about this matter. If you 
have difficulties, he must help you to re- 
move them, and if your views are wrong, 
he must show you what is right. He is 
responsible, in a great degree, for the con- 
duct of those whom he admits into Christ's 
Church, and though he may be deceived, 
yet, unless he takes all proper pains to ac- 
quaint himself with the feelings and in- 
tentions of every one whom he receives 
into that fold, Christ will be angry with 



148 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

him, and account him an unfaithful shep- 
herd. Are you willing, my dear, to talk 
to your minister, and will you tell him all 
yx)ur little doubts and fears just as you tell 
them to your mother ?" 

Yes, ma'am," replied Jennie, have 
no objection to doing this. I love Mr. 
Kennedy dearly, because he is always so 
gentle and patient with me. He never 
seems worried with me when I ask him 
questions, or thinks it a trouble to explain 
to me anything I do not understand. Yes^ 
mother, I am perfectly willing to talk to 
Mr. Kennedy." 

They relapsed again into silence, which 
Jennie was the first to break, by say- 
ing— 

Mother, when I go to the Communion, 
will I be a member of the Church ?" 

Yes, my child, but no more than 
Bessie and you are now, for you were both 
* received into the congregation of C hrist's 
flock,' and * grafted into the body of 
Christ's Church,' when you were baptized; 
and do you not remember I explained to 
you the other day the promises I made in 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 149 

your stead, and those made by Mr. Ken* 
nedy in Christ's stead ?" 

"Yes, mother, I remember them, and 
think I understand them, too." 

" And do you not recollect, Jennie, I 
told you that if the child should, in aftei 
life, refuse to do what the sponsors pro- 
mised for him, Christ would not be bound 
to bless him, as Mr. Kennedy promised He 
would?" 

Yes, mother, I, remember that, too." 

" Well, now, Jennie, you and Bessie are, 
and have been members of Christ's Church 
ever since your baptism, although you were 
too joung to do many things that older 
church members are bound to do. Now, 
however, you are old enough to under- 
stand and use all your privileges ; and, 
although participating in the Holy Com- 
munion will not make you any more a 
member of the Church than you are now 
still it will show that you own your mem- 
bership, that you wish to keep the promises 
which were made for you, and to receive 
the blessings which were promised you." 

Jennie seemed for several minutes en 
13* 



150 THE LITTLE E PISCO PALLA.N. 



tirely lost in thought, and then said — 
Well ! you have often told me before 
that I was a member of the Church, but I 
never exactly understood how it could be 
BO, and I never knew before that a little 
girl like I am could go to the Holy Com- 
munion. I have often wished, mother, 
that I could go along with you, and have 
felt lonely and desolate when I saw you 
go without me. But I thought I would 
have to wait until I was better before I 
dared to go to that holy sacrament." 

" This, my child, is a very common and 
a very fatal mistake with many persons. 
The Saviour tells us, in the Bible, that 
^He came not to call the righteous, but 
sinners and in the same way. He did not 
make a Church for the righteous, but for 
sinners. You would think it, my child, 
very absurd for a sick man to send for a 
physician, and when he came and pre- 
scribed for him, to say that he was too 
sick to take the medicine then but he ^ 
would take it when he grew better. Just 
as absurd is it for a person to say, * I am 
too great a sinner to go into the Church, 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 151 



but I mil go into it when I become a bettei 
maiL' Ii^one case the physician would 
reply, 'The very way to get better is to 
take the remedy now in the other case, 
the very way to become a Christian and a 
better man, is to go to that place where 
Christ has concentrated all the means and 
instruments by which He assists us to be 
consistent Christians. And as in one case, 
the sick man would probably never recover 
at all if he waited to become convalescent 
before using the prescribed remedy ; so in 
the other, the man who waits to become 
very good before he goes into the Church 
will probably never be a Christian at all. 
Some persons will say that they can be 
just as consistent Christians out of the 
Church as in it, but this is altogether a 
mistake. In the first place, Christ has ex- 
pressly commanded, that ^ we should con- 
fess him before men,' and it is hard to see 
how one who wilfully refuses to obey sc 
positive an injunction can be a true Chris 
tian, Again, Christ has provided in hia 
Church certain means by which He helpa 
us to grow in grace, which cannot be had 



152 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAIS . 



elsewhere. There are, it is true, many 
helps granted to all, both in tfce Church 
and out of it, who are sincerely trying to 
serve God. but there are peculiar assist- 
ances given in the sacraments of the 
Church, which He gives nowhere else, and 
though, as I told you before, He could 
give them elsewhere if He pleased, yet He 
has not promised to do it. Now, no man 
can be a consistent Christian, who wilfully 
neglects any of the means which God has 
provided to assist his growth in grace. It 
is for these reasons, and these alone, that 
Episcopalians are so anxious to see persona 
gathered into the fold of the Church. It 
is not that they place undue stress upon 
the fact of mere nominal Church-member- 
ship, but they do believe, that where a 
person has in his heart one spark of vital 
religion, it may be nursed, and fanned into 
a flame by the holy influences of Church 
privileges, ordinances, and sacraments ; 
whereas, without these, it will be almost 
sure to be extinguished by the chilling at- 
mosphere of worldliness. Believe me, my 
child, it is a fatal error to suppose that 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 153 

persons can be as good Christians out of 
the Church as in it. If they could, Christ 
never would have founded a Church at 
all ; for He, who is infinite in wisdom and 
'doeth all things well,' would never have 
committed the human folly of founding an 
institution to meet the wants of man, when 
those wants could be entirely satisfied 
without it. I have talked long to you, 
my darling, but I am so anxious that you 
should clearly understand the uses of the 
Church ; not looking upon it as a spacious 
platform, upon which all the good of the 
earth assemble, and say with pharisaic 
pride to a gazing world, ^ Stand back, for 
I am holier than thou but as a shelter- 
ing fold, where all the sin-sick, the weary, 
and the heavy laden congregate, lured by 
its * green pastures and still waters,' and 
by the loving voice of its gentle Shepherd, 
who promises to them protection and 
guidance. Have I expressed myself, my 
daughter, in such a way that you can 
understand me ?" 

" Yes, mother; and I am glad you have 
told me all this. I have always before 



154 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

had a kind of dread of the Church, but if 
it is, as you say, ^ a sheltering fold,' I sliall 
love to be one of the little lambs in it." 

*'God grant, my precious child, that 
such you may ever be. When you were 
a very, very little lamb, your mother 
placed you there, and she humbly trusts 
and fervently prays that you may never 
stray away from it." 

Mrs. Melville and her children attended 
afternoon service, and by the time the day 
was over, little Jennie was, to use her own 
expression, very tired." Beside the usual 
exercises, Mrs. Melville always at the fam- 
ily devotions on Sunday night expounded 
to the servants, in familiar language, some 
passage of Scripture, and permitted them 
to ask any questions which might occur 
to them. She selected on this occasion 
as her subject, the resurrection of Lazarus; 
this, to the excitable Bessie, was a theme 
full of interest, and she listened eagerly to 
all her mother said. When all the duties 
of the day were over, and they were about 
to retire, she suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, 
mother! I have scarcely thought about my 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 155 



Christmas gift once to-day. It has been 
a very pleasant Sunday, and the services 
have so filled my mind that I had entirely 
forgotten my present." 

Mrs. Melville's eyes sparkled with pleas- 
ure as she kissed the little girl, and said — • 

" I am glad to hear you say so, my dear. 
I love to have the holy Lord's Day rendered 
pleasant and interesting to you, and I al- 
ways make a special effort so to vary its 
employments as to prevent your feeling 
anything like weariness." 



156 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



CHAPTER YL 

The next morning, as soon as Bessie 
awoke, slie sprang out of bed, and, running 
to the bureau, looked for tlie present, 
whose usual place every Christmas was 
just before the dressing glass, but no pres- 
ent was there. She then gazed all around 
the room, and seeing nothing new or 
pretty, turned to her mother with a coun- 
tenance on which disappointment was 
plainly written. 

Mrs. Melville smiled quietly as she 
said — 

" My Christmas gift is not all presented 
to me yet, Bessie ; I wish you to give me 
a little more patience still, and wait until 
you are dressed, and prayers are over, and 
then you shall have your present." 

" Well, mother," cheerfully responded 
the amiable child, " I think I can do that^ 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAK. 157 



for it will only be waiting a very little 
while longer." 

Her mother stroked her affectionately 
on the head, and said — 

You are an obedient little girl, Bessie, 
and mother loves you for it." 

Bessie was so delighted with this enco- 
mium from her mother, that if Mrs. Mel- 
ville bad asked her at that moment to 
surrender her Christmas gift altogether, 
she would probably have done it without 
a moment's hesitation. But the fond 
mother had no idea of trying her child's 
obedience and affection by any unnecessary 
tests. She only desired that the child 
should wait until her morning devotions 
were completed^ knowing very well that 
if she received the present before, these 
would be very badly performed. 

Bessie was dressed, and though strongly 
tempted to hurry through her prayers, 
yet she conscientiously determined to ask 
for just as many blessings as she usually 
did. When she took her Prayer Book, 
although her mother only required her to 
read the Epistle in the morning, and the 
14 



158 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN'. 



Gospel at night, yet, as she was in the 
habit of voluntarily reading both each 
time, she determined not to deviate from 
ner usual custom. She then went down 
into the dining room, where they had 
family prayers, and immediately after these 
were over, Mrs. Melville handed her a 
key, and told her to unlock the door and 
she would see both her present and Jen- 
nie's. 

Bessie looked doubtingly at it, and said : 
Why, mother, you did not mean to 
give me that ; it is the key of the dressing 
closet." 

" I know it, my child ; but take it, and 
go and see quickly, for Fanny has gone to 
send in breakfast. Bessie bounded out of 
the room, and as she opened the door, and 
entered the dressing-closet, she uttered a 
scream of delight, which startled the sleep- 
ing Jennie, and awakened her from a deep 
slumber 

Mrs. Melville had fitted up this little 
room as a play-house for her children. Ic 
was nicely carpeted, and contained two 
very small mahogany rocking-chairs, cov 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 159 

ered with hair cloth, modelled precisely 
after those in her own parlors. In each 
of these chairs reclined a large wax doll, 
handsomely dressed, with bright black 
eyes and glossy brown curls. In the room 
was a small French bedstead just large 
enough for the two dolls. A tiny bureau, 
wardrobe, and wash-stand, on which stood 
a very small bowl and pitcher, and a min 
iature book-case well filled with small vol- 
umes of pleasant and instructive tales, 
completed the furniture of this little apart- 
ment. Bessie was in a perfect ecstasy. 
She took the dolls up and examined their 
clothes, and the little chairs ; then seating 
them again, she amused herself by open- 
ing and shutting the bureau drawers and 
wardrobe doors; then she took all the 
books out of the book-case and glanced at 
their titles ; and finally pulled all the cov- 
er from the bed, looked at each article sep- 
arately, tried in vain to discover what the 
mattrass was stuffed with, and then spread 
everything on again with scrupulous ex- 
actness. Her mother sent for her twice to 
come to breakfast before she could teaj 



160 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAK. 



herself away; and then, as she passed 
through the chamber, seeing that Jennie 
was awake, she begged her to jump up, 
slip on her shoes, and run into the dressing 
closet, just to look for a minute at the 
beautiful things. 

Jennie imprudently complied with her 
sister's request, and stood shivering with 
cold, absorbed in contemplating all these 
proofs of her mother's fond indulgence, 
until a warning cough sent her hastily back 
to the fire. The pet lamb was lying com- 
fortably on the rug, and looked up at her 
with his meek eyes, which seemed to 
lighten with a beam of recognition. She 
stooped down, and fondly caressing him, 
said — 

" These things are all very pretty, my 
little lamb, but I love you a thousand times 
more than them all." 

She then began to dress herself very 
rapidly, and as she moved about the room 
the lamb made an effort to follow her, but 
Beemed unable to walk, and dropped up 
on the floor. 

Jennie rang the bell violently, which so 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 161 



startled Mrs. Melville that she sprang from 
the table and rushed up stairs, where she 
found Jennie seated on the floor, half- 
dressed, with her lamb in her lap, examin- 
ing, with streaming eyes and trembling 
hands, to find out if either of his legs was 
broken, and crying as if her heart would 
break. 

"What is the matter, Jennie?" asked 
her mother, as she seized a large shawl and 
enveloped her in it; and taking up into 
her lap both the child and the lamb, she 
repeated her question — 

" What is the matter, my darling ?" 

"Oh, mother!" sobbed out the child, 
" my precious little lamb is going to die, 
and I d'^ love him so much ! Please do 
something for him ; won't you, mother ?" 

" Yes, my child, if I can : but, Jennie, 
what makes you think he is going to die? 
what is the matter with him?" 

" I don't know what is the matter, but 
ne cannot walk. Put him down, mother, 
and see if he can stand alone." 

Mrs. Melville did so, and found that the 
lamb indeed could not stand alone. 
14* 



162 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN 

She took him up again into hei lap, 
and said — 

"I am afraid, Jennie, that something 
serious is the matter with him. I will 
send for Eobin and see if he cannot do 
something for him ; perhaps he may be 
able to cure him. But do not cry so, my 
darling ; your pet may not die ; but 
Jennie, if he should, you know it will 
be Grod who takes him from you, and 
that He would not do it if it was not 
right." 

*'Yes, mother, I know, and believe 
that; but," added she, after a pause, "it 
will be so hard to give him up ; I do love 
him so much." 

" Yes, my dear," answered her mother, 
**but God sometimes thinks it best to take 
away those very things which we love 
most." 

A pang shot through her heart, and she 
sighed deeply as she looked at her weep 
ing child, and thought — 

" There is a lamb more precious far 
than this, whom I will soon be called 
upon to surrender, and over whom I will 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 163 

have to take up her own cliildisli lamenta- 
tion : It is so hard to give her up ; I do 
love her so much !" 

She repressed her fast gathering tears, 
and telling Jennie she feared very much 
that she would take violent cold, Mrs, 
Melville made Bessie seat herself in her 
chair, and take the lamb in her lap ; and 
sending Fanny down stairs for Robin, she 
herself finished dressing Jennie. 

Robin came up. He shook his head 
despondingly, said he did not know what 
was the matter, but would see if he could 
not do something for him. 

So saying, he took up the little sufferer 
and carrying him tenderly down stairs, 
proceeded to try upon him his skill in the 
healing art. 

After Jennie was dressed, her mother 
and Bessie returned to their unfinished 
breakfast; and after her devotions were 
finished, Jennie herself joined them in 
the dining-room. Upon her cheeks were 
still the traces of her recent tears, and 
her eyes were red with weeping, but on 
her face there rested a sweet expression 



164 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

of calm and peaceful resigaation as she 
said — 

" Mother, 1 am satisfied now !" 

" Why, my darling, has Eobin already 
succeeded in relieving your little pet?" 

I do not know, mother, but I did not 
mean that when I said I was satisfied. I 
asked God, in my prayer just now, please 
not to let my lamb die ; but if He thought 
it best, and my little pet must die, please 
to help me to be willing : and, mother," 
she added, with touching simplicity, and 
striving to keep back the tears which 
were again filling her eyes, shall be 
satisfied now, either way." 

Her mother looked at her earnest and 
tearful face, and thought — 

" In my child's grief I have had a fore- 
taste of the heavy sorrow which is hanging 
over me ; from her may I also* learn the 
lesson of child-like submission and loving 
trust.'' 

She then replied aioud — 

" I sincerely trust, my daughter, that our 
fears with regard to the lamb are ground- 
less, and that he will prove not so seriously 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 165 



injured as we suppose ; but in either event, 
I am truly thankful that you acquiesce so 
entirely in God's will with reference to 
him. It is a precious consolation, my 
child, in every trouble, whether great or 
small, to rest upon the conviction that 
*He doeth all things well.'" 

Here Bessie came in with a request that 
she might spend this, the first day of her 
Christmas holidays, with her friend Susie 
Danvers. To this her mother readily as- 
sented ; and as soon as she had gone, Mrs. 
Melville asked Jennie if she remembered 
the promise she had made to Aunt Sally 
on Saturday. 

Jennie replied in the affirmative, and 
then her mother said — 

" Well, my dear, if I comply with my 
promise, it is necessary that I should go 
out at once and purchase the books, so that 
Eobin may have time to go to the planta- 
tion and return before night. I think it is 
too cold for you to go with me ; have you 
any objection to staying here alone while I 
am gone? I shall be absent only a little 
while." 



166 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



" No, mother ; I can go into the kitchen 
and see what uncle Eobin is doing to my 
lamb, and I can help to nurse him." 

As soon as her mother was gone she ran 
out into the kitchen, but Eobin did not 
at all approve of her staying there to 
assist him. He said it would hurt her 
feelings to see him apply some rather 
painful remedies, which, though severe at 
the moment, seemed thus far to be suc- 
cessful, and comforting her with the assu- 
rance that he thought the lamb might be 
cured after all, he begged her to go back 
into the house, which she accordingly did. 
As she went in, it occurred to her that she 
would amuse herself by taking a more mi • 
nute survey of the little apartment, whose 
beauties she had but glanced at before^ 
but one thought of her little sufferer made 
her turn away with a feeling of distaste 
and weariness from even the very thought 
of her playthings. At length she decided 
that she would sit down quietly by the 
fire in the dining-room and read a favorite 
book of hers, whose pages she had already 
so often perused, that she was pefectly 



THE LITTLE EPlSCOPALIAISr. 167 



familiar with every incident. She had, 
however, conceived a peculiar affection for 
one little girl in it, and never tired read- 
ing about her, so she seated herself in her 
rocking-chair, and was soon as deeply ab- 
sorbed in reading her book as though she 
^vere perusing for the first time its touch- 
ing and interesting incidents. 

She had been thus occupied about half 
an hour when the hall-bell rang, and she 
heard Mr. Kennedy's cheerful voice inquire 
for her mother. She sprang up and ran 
out to meet him, and asked him if he 
could not spare the time to pay her a visit, 
saying, although she was a little girl, yet 
she loved to see him and talk to him. 

The minister readily complied with her 
request, for among all his parishioners 
there was not one for whom he felt a 
stronger affection or for whose character 
he had a more fervent admiration, than for 
this simple-hearted child. He had often 
remarked that she was to him a living 
commentary upon the text, ''Except ye 
become as little children, ye cannot enter 
into the kingdom of heaven and he sait' 



168 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



that she was the little child whom, of all 
he had ever known, he would most love 
to resemble. 

He conversed with her very pleasantly 
about herself and her amusements ; in- 
quired particularly about her pet, and 
really sympathized in what was to her as 
heavy a trial as is a severe affliction to 
many an older person, and, like Mrs. Mel- 
ville, he silently wondered at the spirit of 
submissive resignation which she mani- 
fested. This naturally led him to speak 
of the only comfort which we can ever 
find in trouble, of whatever kind or degree, 
and Jennie opened her whole heart to him 
without any reserve. 

She loved her pastor, and felt none of 
that mysterious dread and shrinking fear 
of him with which too many children re- 
gard their minister. In his intercourse 
with all the young among his parishioners, 
he had studiously avoided every thing 
like forbidding austerity or reserve. He 
always had some pleasant word and an 
affectionate smile for every child of his ac- 
quaintance. He was always unaffectedly 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 169 

delighted wlien tie saw them happy, and 
never thought their childish griefs too in- 
Bignificant for his notice and sympathy 

Jennie had been taught to regard Mr. 
Kennedy as her religious instructor. She 
took it for granted, that it was his pleasure, 
as well as his business, to enlighten her ig- 
norance and remove her difficulties, and 
she never hesitated or shrank from ac- 
quainting him with either. 

She now repeated to him the substance 
of the conversation that had occurred be- 
tween herself and her mother the day 
before, with reference to the Holy Com- 
munion ; made known to him her own 
wishes, and desired from him a confirma- 
tion of what her mother had told her, 
that if she had the characteristics of a 
Vv^orthy communicant, as laid down in the 
Prayer Book, he would think her as much 
entitled to a participation in this ordinance 
as the oldest member of the Church. He 
told her this was all perfectly true, and he 
was then about to explain to her the cha- 
racteristics of a faithful communicant, but 
m a few minutes he perceived, to his sur- 

15 



170 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



prise, that no explanation was needed, for 
they were all as clearly comprehended by 
her mind as his own. He was very much 
struck in the course of his conversation by 
her sincerity, and by the deep, fervent 
piety which she unconsciously betrayed ; 
and when he gladdened her heart by tell- 
ing her she need not be afraid to come to 
the Holy Communion, and that the Saviour, 
so far from rejecting her because she was 
a little child, would only welcome her the 
more affectionately and guard her the 
more lovingly on that very account; he 
felt assured that he had never, in all his 
ministry, invited to that sacred feast one 
who evinced a temper better calculated to 
draw down its richest blessings. 

While they were conversing, Mrs. Mel- 
ville returned with a good-sized Bible and 
Prayer Book for Aunt Sally. She inquired 
immediately whether Eobin had been suc- 
cessful in his efforts to relieve the lamb, 
and when Jennie told her the result of 
her own attempt to assist him, she herself 
went out to the kitchen, and in a few min- 
utes returned, carrying the little patient in 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 17 i 



her arms. He was mucli better, and 
though not yet able to walk, he could 
stand alone, and Eobin thought, that by 
repeated applications of the stimulating 
lotion which he had been using, he would, 
after a while, regain perfectly the use of 
his limb. 

Mrs. Melville asked if she could not 
apply this as well as he could, to which he 
answered — 

"Certainly, ma'am, if it will not hurt 
your feelings to see the little fellow suffer, 
for it is very severe when you first put it 
on." 

"Ah, Eobin I" she sadly replied, "I 
have learned to look at sufferings, those, 
too, which no affection could assuage, no 
remedies alleviate, and I certainly can 
nerve myself now to see this little crea- 
ture suffer, especially as I have the hope 
that he can be permanently relieved. I 
will attend to him, and I wish you 
immediately to get a horse, and take 
these books to the plantation, and give 
ihem to Aunt Sally. I promised to 
Bend them to-day, and you must go at 



172 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

once^ otherwise you cannot get back be- 
fore night." 

He went out to obey his mistress's com- 
mands, and Mrs. Melville was proceeding 
to tie up the books very carefully, when 
Jennie asked — 

" Have you forgotten, mother, that you 
promised to turn down a leaf, and put a 
pencil-mark at a place which you wanted 
her to spell out first ?" 

" Yes, my dear, I should have forgotten 
it entirely if you had not reminded me of 
it. Get me a pencil, Jennie." 

Mr. Kennedy handed one to her, and 
Mrs. Melville marked the Apostles' Creed, 
and folded down a corner of the leaf. 
Jennie looked over, and when her mother 
had finished, she said — 

"Mother, can I not turn down a leaf 
too ?" 

'^Certainly, my dear," and so saying, 
Mrs. Melville handed her the book and 
pencil. 

The child resumed her chair by Mr 
Kennedy, and turning to the Litany^ 
folded down the whole leaf, and the mln 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 173 

ister watched her with surprise as she 
marked the petition — 

^'That it may please thee to give us an 
heart to love and fear thee, and diligently 
to live after thy commandments." 

She then turned over the page, and still 
true to her affection for the name Lamb, 
as applied to the Saviour, she made, with 
peculiar emphasis, a cross mark at the last 
petition — 

Lamb of God, who takest away the 
sins of the world, have mercy upon us." 

She closed the book and gave it to her 
mother, who now tied it with the Bible, 
and laid them down to wait for Eobin. In 
a few minutes he came in, and as Mrs. 
Melville gave him the package, Jennie 
said — 

Uncle Eobin, you must tell aunt Sally 
that Jennie turned down the whole leaf in 
the Prayer Book, and say to her, that 
if she will spell out those two or three 
pages, she will find a prayer for every 
thing she ever can want while she lives in 
this world. Tell her that verses taken 
from the Bible are scattered all through 

15* 



174 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



the book, and all the hymns are in the 
back part of it. Can you remember all 
this, Uncle Eobin ? Mother would write it 
down, but that would be of no use, for 
Aunt Sally could not read it." 

"Yes, Miss Jennie, I think I can re- 
member all that without any trouble," and 
he turned and went out, saying, in an 
under tone — 

^'This must be a great book, indeed, to 
have so many different things in it." 

Mr. Kennedy then told Mrs. Melville what 
he and Jennie had been conversing about, 
and that he had assured her she would be 
a welcome guest at the Communion Table^ 
Mrs. Melville was very much gratified 
with the result of their interview, not that 
she had entertained any doubts about it 
herself, for she well knew that the minister 
could not fail to be at once satisfied with 
regard to the child's fitness for this solemn 
ordinance, but Jennie, herself, seemed to 
have ?o many misgivings, and so much to 
dread lest her tender age should prove an 
insurmountable obstacle, that the mother 
now felt very much relieved to find that 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 175 



all her fears were removed and her heart 
at rest. 

As Mr. Kennedy rose to go. he remem- 
bered that he expected the bishop would 
arrive by the next Communion season, and 
the Holy Sacrament and the rite of Con- 
firmation would be administered on the 
same Sunday morning. 

After he was gone, Jennie said — 

" Mother, I wish you would explain to 
me the meaning and the uses of Confirma- 
tion. I always feel very solemn when I 
see the bishop lay his hands so affection- 
ately on the heads of the kneeling persons, 
and hear him offer up so fervently over 
every one that little short prayer ; but then 
I do not precisely understand the meaning 
of the word Confirmation, and I do not 
exactly know the use of it." 

" Well, Jennie, before we begin to talk 
about it we will take the Prayer Book — 
you get the little one out of my vfork- 
basket, and I will take the large one from 
the stand." 

So saying, Mrs. Melville brought the 
large book, and laying it upon her lap, 



176 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



slie turned to " The Order of Confirma 
tion, or Laying on of Hands." 

*'If you will read, Jennie," said she, 
"a portion of the preface, which the rubric 
requires shall always be read whenever 
the rite is administered, you will find that 
it sets forth plainly and distinctly the ob- 
ject and the benefits of Confirmation, and 
you will scarcely require any explanation 
from your mother to enable- you to under- 
stand them. Glance your eye down until 
you see the words, * To the end that chil- 
dren, &c.,' and then let us hear what is 
said." 

Jennie looked until she saw the sentence 
to which her mother alluded, and then 
read — 

^ To the end, that children, being now 
come to the years of discretion, and having 
learned what their Godfathers and God- 
mothers promised for them in Baptism, 
may, themselves, with their own mouth and 
consent, openly before the Church, ratify 
and confirm the same ; and also promise, 
that by the grace of God, they will ever- 
more endeavor themselves faithfully to 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 177 



observe such things as they, by their owe 
confession, have assented unto.' " 

" Do you understand this, Jennie ?" 

" Not exactly, mother." 

" Well, my dear, I will try and see if 
I can make it plain. When you were 
baptized, who made the promises, you or 
I?" 

" You did, mother, because I was too 
small to know any thing about it." 

" Now, Jennie, I took you to the church, 
and in the presence of God and of the 
congregation, I made all those promises 
for you. Now does it not seem reasonable 
and right that when you grow old enough 
to keep these promises for yourself, and 
are willing to do it, you should go to the 
same place, and again, in the presence of 
God and of the congregation, say, that you 
think you are just as much bound to keep 
the vows made for you by your mother as 
if you had uttered them with your own 
mouth, and that, by God's grace assisting 
you, you intend to do it? Do you not 
think this seems right and proper, my 
daughter?" 



178 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN". 



Yes, mother, I certainly do," said the 
child. 

Well, my dear, this is Confirmation. 
Confirm means to strengthen, to make good ; 
and when you are confirmed you will, in 
your own name, and on your own behalf, 
make good the promises which I made for 
you in your baptism. The bishop then 
asks all who come to be confirmed, 
if they will renew the promises which 
either they themselves have made or others 
have made for them; and if they will 
acknowledge themselves bound to believe 
and to do all that was promised for them 
To this each one shall answer, ^ audibly,' 
as the rubric says, *I do.' Now, Jennie 
if you recollect the conversation we had 
several days ago upon the baptismal cove- 
nant, you will remember that these prom- 
ises were very solemn, and very compre- 
hensive; that they included every thing 
which a Christian ought to do : and inas- 
much as we are utterly unable by our- 
selves, and in our own unassisted strength, 
to fulfil these vows, the bishop is taught 
to say, 'Our help is in the name of th^ 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 179 



Lord:' thereby reminding all who como 
to that sacred rite of their own insuffi 
ciency, and of the source whence they 
must seek grace to do what by nature they 
themselves cannot do. To this the people 
are to reply, ^ Who hath made heaven and 
earth:' thereby testifying their assurance 
that He from whom they seek aid is om- 
nipotent, and able to give them strength 
and grace in all circumstances and in any 
measure. Next in order comes a short 
prayer, and afterwards the bishop goes 
round, and, laying his hands upon the 
head of every kneeling suppliant, he offers 
up for each one, individually, that beauti- 
ful, fervent, and touching petition. Eead 
it, my daughter ; it will do me good to 
hear your childish voice uttering that 
prayer." 

Jennie read slowly, ^ Defend, Lord, 
this Thy Child with Thy heavenly grace, 
that he may continue Thine forever, and 
daily increase in Thy Holy Spirit more 
and more, until he come unto Thy ever- 
lasting Kingdom. Amen.' " 

"Now, Jennie," said her mother, "li 



180 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAK 



Confirmation meant nothing else, if ita 
whole benefit consisted solely in having 
this prayer sincerely ofiered up for me, 
specially and individually, I should con- 
sider it an invaluable privilege ; but it in- 
cludes a great deal besides this. It is the 
renewal of the vows made for us in our 
baptism; the public confession that we con- 
sider ourselves bound by them, and intend, 
by God's grace, to keep them so long as we 
live. It is the act of giving ourselves 
over again as it were to Grod's service ; and 
yet more than this, it is a rite in which a 
special blessing is given to all who receive 
it with humble trust and child-like faith. 
In our conversation upon Baptism you re- 
collect we read in the Prayer Book that 
one of the promises made by Christ to 
the little baby was, ^ To sanctify him 
with the Holy Ghost.' Now, Jennie, 
Confirmation is the time for the Saviour to 
fulfil this promise. It is true, as I ex- 
plained to you before, that the Saviour 
does not wait so long before He blesses the 
child. From the very moment when the 
parent, in the act of Baptism, gives his 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 181 



child up to the Saviour, and promises to 
train him for his service, Christ blesses 
that child as his own ; but yet neither the 
child nor the parent can tell precisely what 
blessings he receives. In Confirmation, 
however, we may look for special gracu at 
God's hands, grace which was promised to 
the infant in Baptism, and which I have 
already reminded you was, Ho sanctify 
him with the Holy Ghost.' To sanctify, 
or to make holy, it is true, is not done in 
a moment, or at any one particular time. 
The Bible everywhere teaches us that this 
is a gradual change, and requires time; 
but yet, in Confirmation we receive some 
of the influences of the Holy Spirit, and 
the promise, that if we are faithful in try- 
ing to fulfil our duties we shall have these 
influences to go with us all through life, 
to help us to resist temptation, to guide 
us in the right way, and to sustain and 
comfort us in trials and troubles. So you 
see, my daughter, that Confirmation is not 
merely what too many persons regard 
it — a formal way of coming into the 
Church ; but it is a very solemn rite, and 
16 



182 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

one of inestimable benefit when it ia 
rightly received." 

Jnst then the lamb, who had been lying 
very quietly upon a bed of soft wool, pre- 
pared by Jennie on the rug, made a little 
noise, as if tired of remaining so long un» 
noticed. 

Mrs. Melville took him up gently, and 
as she placed him on her lap, she said, 
smilingly — 

"I am afraid, Jennie, that when Eobin 
returns he will pronounce me a very neg- 
ligent nurse. He left special directions, 
you recollect, that I should apply this 
lotion every half hour, and I have let a 
whole hour pass without even thinking 
about it. Bring the bottle here, and let 
me put it on." 

Jennie did as she was requested, and 
stood holding the bottle while her mother, 
with great tenderness, applied the contents 
to the lame foot. He seemed to shrink 
with great dread from Mrs. Melville's 
touch, gentle as it was, and looked up so 
imploringly and piteously into her face, 
that Jennie's heart was sorely grieved, 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



188 



and the tears fell rapidly from her eyes, 
though, as her mother had requested her 
assistance, she never once thought of 
avoiding tne distressing sight by deserting 
her post. 

After the painful duty was finished, she 
seated herself in her chair, and taking the 
lamb in her lap, caressed him most lov- 
ingly ; and felt amply repaid for all her 
anxiety and care about him whenever he 
would give her, as he frequently did, one 
of his mild, soft glances of affectionate re 
cognition. 



184 THE LITTLE EPISCOFALLiN. 



CHAPTER VII. 

The intervening weeks before the 
Bishop's visitation passed rapidly enough 
with Bessie, who, full of life and health, 
found a pleasure in the mere possession of 
existence, and to whom every thing was a 
source of happiness. But time rolled by 
wearily with the drooping, though patient, 
little Jennie, whose remaining strength 
was perceptibly declining. 

The relaxation of the stern, cold fetters 
of winter, and the approach of the early 
Southern spring, could not infuse new 
vigor into her sinking frame ; and Mrs, 
Melville was not conscious she had in- 
dulged a hope that her child would ever 
be any better, until she felt, gnawing into 
her inmost soul, that feeling of heart-aching 
disappointment which none can conceive 
save those who have felt its pang. 

Already a sweet foretaste of the ap- 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN". 185 



proacliing spring was felt in the pleasant 
Bunshine and genial atmosphere of our 
warm southern February ; but the child 
was sinking daily, and Mrs. Melville could 
not shut her eyes to the agonizing fact, 
and she now discovered, for the first time, 
that like a drowning man grasping a straw, 
Bhe had clung to the scarce-defined hope 
that the spring might do for that little in- 
valid what her own sober judgment as- 
sured her all earthly means and all human 
skill were utterly inadequate to effect. 

With that strange unwillingness to be 
considered an invalid, which is so remark- 
able a characteristic of the disease, Jennie 
persisted in being dressed every day, and 
carried down stairs into the dining-room ; 
but when there, her usual place was now the 
sofa, and her constant companion the little 
lamb, which had now entirely recovered, 
and never willingly left her side. 

The occasional glow that used some- 
times to flush her cheeks, had now deep- 
ened into the bright hectic spot; hex 
hands were always feverish, and her pulse 
bounding with accelerated speed; hex 
16* 



/ 

186 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

breatliing was hurried, and her cough 
constant. All these things her mother 
noticed with that feeling of hopeless agony 
which those only can know who have felt 
that they would give the universe to save 
a beloved object, and whose hearts have 
died within them beneath the crushing 
conviction that the whole universe could 
not save it. 

At length that Lord's Day dawned to 
which the child had looked forward for 
weeks with emotions of mingled desire and 
fear. Though she had unbounded confi- 
dence in both her mother and Mr. Ken- 
nedy, yet the encouragement held out by 
them had not altogether removed her timid 
dread of presumptuously going to the Holy 
Communion; and while she ardently de- 
sired its blessings, she yet feared lest she 
might be too young to receive them. 

On Saturday evening Mr. Kennedy 
brought the Bishop to see his little candi- 
date for Confirmation. Shrinking though 
she was, the excellent man of God found 
no difl&culty whatever in eliciting her de- 
sires and feelings. Affectionately and cou- 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 187 



fidingly she told him all her doubts and 
fears, and gently and tenderly he coun- 
selled and encouraged this little lamb of 
his flock. 

As they left the house, he said very seri- 
ously — 

"I was afraid, Mr. Kennedy, tjiat you 
might possibly have been rather prenaature 
in bringing to the rite of Confirmation so 
very young a child ; but since I have seen 
her, I really think her old Bishop himself 
might learn from her a lesson of simple- 
minded and unquestioning obedience." 

She was now altogether too feeble to go 
to Sunday school, and the two Church 
services besides ; and as she was particu- 
larly anxious to go through them that day 
without such bodily exhaustion as would 
prevent her enjoyment of them, she let 
Bessie go off, after breakfast, without her, 
and with swimming eyes she said to her 
mother — 

" Mother, I never think it is very hard 
to lie here, and not be able to run about, 
until I see Bessie go to Sunday school, 
and then I think I would give any thing 



188 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



in the world just to be well enough to go 
with her once more." 

When the time arrived for morning ser- 
vice, Eobin came in, and taking Jennie in 
his arms, accompanied Mrs. Melville. This 
was now the usual method for her to go to 
church. Too much debilitated to walk, 
she yet could not consent to be left at 
home ; and as Mrs. Melville's conscience 
would not permit her ordinarily to use her 
carriage on Sunday, and as all her ser- 
vants constantly attended the church where 
she worshipped, she had thought of this 
expedient of gratifying the child. 

Eobin was devoted to her ; and as, Sun- 
day after Sunday, he lifted up her slight 
frame, and felt that the burden was grow- 
ing lighter and lighter, his warm, honest 
heart was sincerely grieved to think that 
before many weeks should have passed 
away, he would tread his lonely way to 
the church with no little Jennie in h's 
arms. 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

The Sunday services were over. Jennie 
bad that morning been confirmed, and had 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAlSr. 189 

received the Holy Oomm-anion. Othei 
candidates there were for the sacred rite 
of Confirmation; some in the freshness of 
youth, some in the vigor of manhood, and 
one old man in the decrepitude of age, 
with tottering steps and silvered hair. But 
for none was there so much affectionate 
sympathy enlisted, as for the frail child, 
whom her mother led trembling to the 
chancel, and whose slight form contrasted 
strangely with that of the old man, who 
knelt by her side. When the Bishop 
laid his hands upon the head of each one, 
and invoked the blessing, there was, per- 
haps, a tone of deeper and more impressive 
fervor, as he implored the heavenly grace 
for the meek little child kneeling before 
him ; and the deep and fervent and solemn 
A.men that arose from the congregation, 
seemed the utterance of full and glowing 
hearts. 

It was now late in the afternoon. Tho- 
roughly exhausted, Jennie was lying upon 
Vhe sofa, looking languidly out of the win- 
dow at the setting sun. Upon her face 
rested a sweet, heavenly expression. She 



190 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



Beemed too much fatigued even to talk; 
and her mother was sitting by, with her 
open Bible in her lap, but her thoughts 
had wandered from its sacred pages, and 
she was going over again, in imagination, 
the services of the day, so fraught as they 
had been with the deepest interest to her 
maternal heart. At last she awaked from 
her musing, and looking at the child, 
said — 

"Jennie, what are you thinking about 
now? I should judge from your counte- 
nance that it was something very pleasant." 

" I have been lying here, mother, think- 
ing of all that took place in the church to- 
day; and just when you spoke to me, 1 
was thinking over the Benediction. I 
never noticed it particularly before, but 
this morning it seemed to me, when, after 
the Communion, the Bishop began to say, 
* The peace of God which passeth all un- 
derstanding,' that it was just the feeling 
of my heart. Peace! that vras the very 
word, mother, and it did * pass all under- 
Btanding,' because, until I felt it, I could 
not know any thing about it." 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 191 

*^Yes, my childj" replied her mother, 
there has always been, to my miud, 
something peculiarlj^ beautiful in the part- 
ing benediction with which the Church 
dismisses her children after her solemn 
services are over ; and I have sometimes 
thought that if I should walk there, and 
hear not a word except this, I should be 
amply repaid for going. It is no small, 
no common blessing which the minister 
implores upon his people when he says — 
^ The peace of God, which passeth all 
understanding, keep your hearts and minds 
in the knowledge and love of God, and of 
his Son Jesus Christ our Lord : and the 
blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the 
Son, and the Holy Ghost, be amongst you, 
and remain with you always.' 

" It is a very beautiful and a very com- 
prehensive petition, and one whose words 
of blessing fall very sweetly and soothing- 
ly upon our ears, as we are leaving that 
* Holy Temple' in which we have met our 
heavenly Father, and where we have talked 
with him, ^as a man talketh with his 
friend.' " 



192 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



After a little while, Jennie said — 

"Mother, do you not think it is very 
strange that we hear these things so often, 
and yet they make no impression upon us. 
Now I have heard that benediction twice 
every Sunday of my life, since I have been 
old enough to go to church, and yet I 
never thought about it before to-day. But 
I wonder that it did not always seem to 
me as beautiful as it does now. Oh, mo- 
ther, you do not know how quiet I felt 
while I was listening to it." 

Mrs. Melville fully comprehended all 
that was intended to be conveyed by the 
word " quiet," for she had herself experi- 
enced that feeling of holy calm and sereni- 
ty, which comes so soothingly upon the 
soul in the words of this benediction, and 
she was forcibly struck by the word em- 
ployed by Jennie to describe her feelings. 

^^I have often," she replied, wondered 
myself at our insensibility to the beauty 
and power of that Liturgy which seems to 
open new wonders to my mind every time 
I use it. There is no want of our poor, 
fallen nature, which has not a petition for 



THE LITTLE EPISGOPALlAN. 193 



Its relief; and no blessing received, which 
has not a thanksgiving. Tfciere is but one 
thing, Jennie, which I would like to see 
added to the Prayer Book." 

Jennie opened her eyes wide with aston- 
ishment, for she had been taught to think 
that the Prayer Book, like the Bible, 
ought not to be altered ; so she replied — 

^'Why, mother! I did not know any- 
body could improve the Prayer Book. I 
thought it was perfect !" 

Mrs. Melville smiled at Jennie's un- 
questioning confidence in the standards of 
the Church, and replied — 

^' Nevertheless, my child, there is one 
thing I would like to see added, and that 
is a special thanksgiving for the possession 
of this incomparable book, and although, 
in the General Thanksgiving, we gratefully 
acknowledge this among all our othei 
blessings, yet it seems to me that I would 
love, at the close of every service, to 
thank God publicly with the congregation, 
for the unspeakable blessing vouchsafed 
to us in the possession of such a book and 
such a Liturgv." 
17 



194 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



Just then, Mr. Kennedy and the Bishop 
called in to see Jennie, for they feared the 
effects of all the excitement she had un- 
dergone upon her feeble frame. She was 
delighted at the affectionate interest thus 
manifested towards her by the Bishop, and 
she could not understand how a gray- 
headed man could be willing to sit down 
and talk so patiently to a little child liko 
herself. She already loved him, and di(] 
not feel that she v.^as a stranger to him^ 
and after having talked with him freolj 
and unreservedly of all her emotions 
during the day, she showed him her little 
lamb, which was nestled close beside hei 
upon the sofa, and told him what a pet it 
was with her, and how much company it 
was for her, as she had to lie there all the 
long wearisome day. 

As they were leaving, she told Mr. Ken- 
nedy how much she longed for a little 
playmate, and asked him if he could not 
so arrange it that Willie might spend every 
afternoon with her. To this the kind 
minister readily agreed, and as he taught 
his little boy at home, he altercJ his ar- 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 195 



rangement so as to give all his instruction 
in the morning, and leave the afternoon 
for amusement and recreation. Willie 
was perfectly delighted with this plan. 
He was never happier than when he was 
with Jennie, and he was so gentle in his 
disposition, that his society was peculiarly 
agreeable to her, and her pale face would 
light up as with a sunbeam, whenever she 
heard the little boy's firm, rapid step, and 
saw his bright, happy face looking in at 
the door. Even the lamb began to divide 
his affection between the two children, and 
though he would firmly resist the efforts 
of any one else to remove him from his 
accustomed place by Jennie's side, yet he 
would go very quietly to Willie, and sub- 
mit very patiently to his boyish caresses. 

Thus the days passed on more pleasantly 
for Jennie than could have been expected. 
Mrs. Melville was obliged to see that her 
chOd was becoming more feeble and 
languid every day; yet she never com- 
plained, and if questioned about herself 
would always reply, " I am very well ; 
^nly I am tired." 



196 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN". 



Every morning, after tlie sun grew 
bright and warm, Eobin came round with 
the carriage, and Jennie and her mother 
went out to breathe a little fresh air ; but 
3 very few days the words, am tired, 
mother," would shorten the ride, until, at 
tast, they were rarely gone from home 
more than half an hour. 

Mrs. Melville never talked to her child 
about dying. She felt perfectly satisfied 
that she was ready to meet the summons 
at a moment's warning; and she deter- 
mined not to harass her mind, and embitter 
the brief remnant of her life, by a shrink- 
ing dread of those fearful struggles which 
are always associated in the mind with the 
idea of dying. She frequently talked to 
her of Paradise, and of the following joys 
and glories of heaven ; and she tried to 
bring down their attractions to Jennie^'s 
comprehension, and make her ardently 
desire to be at rest : and the child talked 
constantly of going to Paradise as she 
would of visiting some pleasant place, 
without seeming at all to remember that 
in order to reach that blessed home she 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 197 



must first cross the cold and chilling 
stream of death. 

Thus passed the days and weeks — 
slowly, heavily, sorrowfully to the anxioua 
and distressed mother ; calmly and placidly 
with the dying child ; mirthfully and hap- 
pily with the light-hearted Bessie, who 
never dreamed that Jennie could be very 
sick so long as she could be dressed and 
brought down stairs. 

One evening about sunset, Mrs. Mel- 
ville, Jennie, and Willie Kennedy were 
all in their usual places; Jennie was prop- 
ped up on pillows, with her lamb lying 
quietly in her lap. A little table was be- 
fore her, and on it lay the pieces of a dis- 
sected map, and she and Willie were dis- 
playing their geographical knowledge^ 
and at the same time amusing themselves, 
by trying to put it together. While they 
were thus employed, Bessie rushed into 
the room, and, throwing down her bonnet 
and satchel, exclaimed, impatiently — 

"Oh, I am so sorry they are taking 
<hem down ! They are just as bright and 
green as they ever were, and the church 
37* 



198 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



will look SO bare and -ugly without them." 

" What are you talking about, Bessie?" 
inquired her mother. 

" About the wreaths, moiher. As I 
came by the church just now I saw the 
pavements covered with evergreens which 
they had pulled down, and I thought it 
was a pity to throw them away while they 
looked so fresh. I think I would have 
waited, if I had been Mr. Kennedy, until 
they had turned brown and ugly before I 
took them down, wouldn't you, mother ?" 

'^Bessie," replied her mother, "do you 
not know, my child, the reason why they 
are to-day stripping the church of all its 
Christmas decorations ?" 

" No, mother, I do not. As we came 
along Mary Granville asked me why they 
were doing it, and if we had any particu- 
lar time to keep the church dressed. At 
first I thought I would tell her, 'Yes; 
that the Fmjev Book told us how long we 
must let the wreaths hang up ;' but then 
I remembered the great mistake I made 
the other day, and was afraid to tell her 
anything, because I thought that, perhaps^ 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 199 



fcllis time I might not even find it in the 
Bible as I happened to do before. So ] 
told her ' I did not know, but I would ask 
you and tell her all about it day after to- 
morrow, when I go back to school.' " 

" I am very glad, my dear, that yoa 
were wise enough not to hazard this reply, 
for I do not think you would have found 
in the contents of either the Bible or the 
Prayer Book any time specified for taking 
down wreaths. But are you not going to 
school to-morrow, Bessie ?" 

" No, mother," replied she, in great sur- 
prise. "Don't you know we never go to 
school on Ash- Wednesday ?" 

"What is Ash-Wednesday, my daugh- 
ter?" 

" It is the first day of Lent, mother." 

"And what is Lent?" 

Bessie thought a little while, and then, 
shaking her head doubtingly, she replied, 
with some hesitation — 

"It is a time, mother, when Mr. Ken 
uedy has service oftener than at any other 
time ; and Episcopalians do not give par- 
ties, and do not go to them; and the last 



200 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



week they have service every day ; and — " 
Oh, Bessie ! stop, stop, my dear child," 
exclaimed her mother, most beseechingly. 
" If this is indeed all you know about the 
season of Lent, and its uses, I am truly 
glad that you did not undertake to en- 
lighten Mary Granville with reference to 
the removal of the evergreens, which is 
always preparatory to the commencement 
of this great Fast of the Church. Now, 
my child, we will talk a little about Lent, 
and I think you will find that the Church 
has some definite object to be attained by 
all her usages, and that there is a wise 
reason even for taking down the Christmas 
decorations at a particular time. You 
know, Bessie, why they were put up, in 
the first place ?" 

^'Yes, mother: as signs of rejoicing on 
Jesus Christ's birth-day." 

" Now, my child, the season of Lent, the 
great Fast of the Christian Church, has been 
kept ever since the days of the Apostles, 
by whom the foundations of the Church 
were laid. It is a time specially set apart 
for recalling our many sins, and all the 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALLIN. 



201 



reproacli and shame and bodily pain which 
the Saviour endured, as the punishment of 
those sins, during his sojourn on earth. 
No\y, Bessie, does it not seem peculiarly 
appropriate, that all the signs of Christmas 
rejoicings should be removed before we 
enter upon that sad and solemn season." 

Yes, mother, I think it does; and this, 
then, is the reason why the wreaths are all 
taken down to-day, because we are done 
rejoicing at Christ's birth, and begin to feel 
sorry for his sufferings and death, and for 
our sins which made him suffer and die. 
Is that it, mother ?" 

^' Yes, my child, precisely so. Do you 
know, Bessie, how long Lent lasts ?" 

Bessie reflected a moment, and then 
shook her head, saying — 

"It lasts a long time, mother, but I do 
not know exactly how long." 

''Forty days, Bessie," said Mrs. Melville. 

^' Forty days !" repeated she, in aston- 
ishment. " That is truly a long time. Did 
the early Christians have any reason, mo- 
ther, for making it last so long ?" 

''I think, Bessie, that for this, as well aa 



202 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



for every other custom of the Church, we 
may find some reason in Scripture. Go to 
the Bible, and let us see if we can find 
there a record of any other fast that lasted 
forty days." 

Bessie went to the large Bible, and open- 
ing it, turned to her mother, awaiting di- 
rections where to look. 

" Turn, my daughter, to the fourth chap- 
ter of St. Matthew's Gospel, and read to me 
the first and second verses." 

Bessie found the place without any de* 
lay, and read — 

" * Then was Jesus led up of the Spirit 
into the wilderness, to be tempted of the 
devil. And when He had fasted forty 
days and forty nights, He was afterward 
an hungered.' " 

"I suppose, my dear," said Mrs. Mel- 
ville, "that it was the example of our Sa- 
viour which determined the early Church 
to prolong this great solemn fast to forty 
days. However, there are two other in- 
stances recorded in the Bible, which, al- 
though I do not think they have any 
direct bearing upon our season of Lent, are 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 203 



yet worth noticing. Look first at the ninth 
chapter of the Book of Deuteronomy, and 
read to me the last clause of the ninth 
verse." 

Bessie was not so familiar with the 
Old, -as with the New Testament ; so she 
had to look a little while before she found 
the place ; but at last she succeeded, and 
read aloud — 

" ' I abode in the mount forty days and 
forty nights ; I neither did eat bread nor 
drink water.' " 

**Who is this person who is speaking 
here? Look at the preceding verses, and 
see if you can find out." 

Bessie looked diligently up and down 
the page, but could find no name that 
could throw any light upon the subject ; 
so she replied— 

" I do not know, mother, who it is ; the 
Bible does not tell." 

" Oh, yes, it does, my child. Turn back 
to the fifth chapter of this same book, and 
perhaps the first verse will inform you." 

The child did as she was directed, and 
read aloud — 



204 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

" * And Moses called all Israel, and said 
unto them, Hear, Israel, the statutes 
and judgments which I speak in your ears 
this day.' " 

" So, then, Bessie, you see it was Moses 
who was speaking. The chapters o# this 
book, from the fifth through the twenty- 
sixth, contain an address which he made 
to the children of Israel, just before they 
entered into the land of Canaan. In this 
address he reminds them of all God's mer- 
cies to them while they were wandering 
in the wilderness, and of all their rebellion 
and ingratitude ; and among other things, 
he recalls to them the time when he went 
up into the mountain to receive the Ten 
Commandments, and fasted forty days and 
forty nights. Now look at the eighth verse 
of the nineteenth chapter of First Kings." 

Bessie found the place, and read — 

" ^ And he arose, and did eat and drink, 
and went in the strength of that meat forty 
days and forty nights.' " 

"Who was this, mother?" asked she. 

"It was the prophet Elijah, who waa 
fleeing for his life from the wicked Queen 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 205 

Jezebel. He was wandering alone m the 
wilderness, wearied with his journey, faint 
from want of food, and sad and dispirited, 
because he seemed to have no friend to 
protect and help him. At last he sank 
down from exhaustion, and fell asleep 
under the shade of a juniper tree, whose 
branches protected him from the glaring 
sunlight. From this slumber he was 
awakened by the touch of an angel, who 
said, * Arise, and eat.' Bewildered and 
amazed, he opened his eyes, and there he 
saw a nice little cake of bread and a re- 
freshing draught of water. Eagerly and 
gratefully did he eat the food thus miracu- 
lously supplied ; and the sacred historian 
simply adds, ' He went in the strength of 
that meat forty days and forty nights:' 
that is, that God not only enabled him to 
do without food all that time, but also pre- 
served him from the faintness and exhaus- 
tion which are the invariable consequences 
of long abstinence. So j^ou see, my daugh- 
ter, that the Church has for her fast of 
forty days three examples in Holy Scrip- 
ture, though I suppose she was most influ- 
18 



206 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



enced by the example of Him who is hei 
great Exemplar and her Corner-stone." 

" But, mother," said Bessie, after a few 
moments of silent reflection, these three 
cases were all miracles. Does God work 
a miracle every Lent, to help you to go 
without eating all that time?" 

'^N"o, my dear, not by any means. The 
days of miracles are over, and as no one 
can go without eating for forty days 
unless God miraculously preserve his life, 
the Church, always reasonable in her de- 
mands, only requires that we shall use 
such abstinence as is perfectly consistent 
with the preservation of our health and 
strength, and if, during this sacred season, 
Christians are particularly engaged in be- 
wailing their sins, and in thinking upon 
their Saviours sufferings, it is scarcely 
probable they will have any disposition 
for those amusements, employments, or 
entertainments, which, although they 
may not be sinful in themselves, would 
nevertheless draw off their thoughts 
from that subject which this season 
is particularly designed to keep before 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 207 



their minds. This will account for the 
custom which you seem to have noticed 
among Episcopalians, but for which you 
could not give any reason, and which .you 
mentioned as a characteristic of Lent — 
* that they do not give parties or go to 
them,' by which I suppose you meant that 
they abstain as much as possible from all 
amusements and innocent gatherings which 
are calculated to disturb the serenity of 
their minds. Heads of families, too, make 
it a Christian duty to arrange their house- 
hold matters so that they will have as few 
pressing duties as possible to attend to, 
that they may have calm and quiet hearts 
for the frequent services of the sanctuary, 
and more time than usual for tlie daily 
duties of reading, meditation, and prayer. 
The truly humble and pious Episcopalian 
wishes to have nothing during these sacred 
forty days to draw off his heart from a 
constant and thankful remembrance of hi.3 
suffering Saviour." 

Mother," said Bessie, as she looked up 
earnestly into her face, " I thought Chris- 
tians ought, all the time, to keep in re- 



208 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



merabrance their suffering Saviour. I did 
not know it was right to forget him any 
more at one time than at another." 

" And it is not, my darling," replied her 
mother ; *^ but since the Church was made 
for people as they are, and not as they 
ought to be, and since it is one of the pe- 
culiar frailties of our fallen nature that a 
duty which may be performed at any time is 
very apt ne ver to be done at all, the Church 
has very wisely set apart a special season 
to recall to our minds the sufferings of our 
Saviour, and to remind us not only that 
He did suffer, but how, and when, and 
where. Fearing, too, that if this duty be 
left to be performed by each individual 
Christian in his devotions at home, it may 
still be neglected, she summons her chil- 
dren more frequently than usual to her 
sacred courts, and appoints to be publicly 
read to the congregation the inspired re- 
cord of all that He endured for us. So 
that you see, Bessie, even the most sloth- 
ful, and negligent, and indifferent Christian 
is obliged to have the Saviour's sufferings 
brought vividly before his mind, and if 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 209 



he has any heart at all, lie cannot fail to 
be touched and melted by the remem- 
brance of them. This division of time 
into the Ecclesiastical Year, as it is called, 
is, I think, the wisest and most beautiful 
provision of the Church. By this arrange- 
ment, the great and leading events of our 
Saviour's life, from the gladsome rejoicings 
of the Nativity on Christmas, to the solemn 
and soul-subduing services of Good Friday, 
all are brought distinctly and in their 
regular order before the mind, and in such 
a way that the most careless attendant upon 
her public worship is obliged to become 
familiar with the history of Our Blessed 
Eedeemer. I know from experience how 
beneficial this arrangement is, and although 
I acknowledge that I ought to think of these 
things without waiting to have them recalled 
by the Church services, yet I must confess, 
that very many times I find myself so en- 
grossed in worldly employments, or perplex- 
ed by worldly cares, or weighed down by 
worldly troubles, that all other thoughts and 
feelings are crowded out of my mind until 
the gentle voice of the Church arouses me 

.18 



210 THE LITTLE E PISCO PALI AJJ^". 



from my lethargy, and lier services in 
Advent, on Christmas, during Lent, on 
Good Friday, Easter, Whit-Sunday, or 
Trinity Sunday, bring so plainly to my 
contemplation some great event in my 
Saviour's life, or some cardinal doctrine 
which He taught, that I cannot, if I would, 
refuse to give it my attention. But to re- 
turn to the subject of our conversation. 
What did you say the first day of Lent 
is called ?" 

" Ash- Wednesday," replied the child. 

" This is rather a singular name, do you 
not think so, Bessie ? Can you tell why 
this name was given to it ?" 

^* No, mother, I cannot." 
Because, Bessie, on this day the early 
Christians used to throw ashes over their 
heads as a sign of humiliation and sorrow: 
hence the name Ash- Wednesday. This 
was a custom prevalent among the Jews 
whenever they had any very great grief 
10 bear, whether it were a national calamity 
or a private sorrow ; and we frequently 
read in the Old Testament of jiersons 
mourning in sackcloth and ashes. And as 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 211 

during the season of Lent, the Christians 
were to contemplate the suflferings of 
Christ, .they spent its first day in these 
outward demonstrations of sorrow for all 
their sins, the weight of whose punish^ 
ment He bore. "What do we call the last 
week of Lent?" 

" Passion Week," replied Bessie. 
And this, my child, means Suffering 
Week ; for although it would seem that 
the innocent Saviour's cup of sorrow had 
been before full to overflowing, yet, du- 
ring this week of his sinless life. He had 
to bear a weight of agony from which 
even his patient and uncomplaining spirit 
seemed to shrink with unutterable dread. 
It was during this week that He was 
scourged, and mocked, and insulted by 
his enemies ; denied by one disciple, sold 
by another, deserted by all. It was du- 
ring this week that he was crucified ; and, 
as the climax of his anguish while dying 
upon the cross. He was denied the blessed 
comfort which those very agonies have 
secured to the humblest Christians— the 
iight of the Father's reconciling connte 



212 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



nance to illuminate the dark valley of the 
shadow of death. Truly the Church has 
well named this Passion or Suffering 
Week ! The sad, solemn services of Good 
Friday — called good, because those suffer- 
ings so terrible to Him were our highest 
good, inasmuch as they purchased heaven 
for us ; the calm, holy services of the next 
day, or Easter Even, as it is called in the 
Prayer Book, when his torn and lacerated 
frame rested quietly in the sweet repose of 
the grave ; these conclude the week, and 
leave the heart subdued and ready when 
the joyous light of Easter or the resurrec- 
tion morning dawns to sing away all its 
sadness in the exulting chant which the 
Church puts into the mouth of all her 
children : 

* Christ is. risen from the dead, and be- 
come the first-fruits of them that slept. 

' Christ being risen from the dead 
dieth no more, death hath no more domin- 
ion over Him. 

" * For as in Adam all die, even so in 
Christ shall all be made alive.' " 
Mrs. Melville's countenance glowed with 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN". 213 



earnestness, for she was trying to impart 
to her little girl somewhat of her own 
appreciation of the inestimable privileges 
of Passion Week. She paused a moment, 
and then added — 

"Bessie, my child, I honestly believe 
that an affectionate, devoted Christian will 
be more humbled, and softened, and com- 
forted by the services of Passion "Week 
than by the Church privileges of all the 
rest of the year besides." 

-X- -Jf -Jf 4f * 

Ash-Wednesday: and Mrs. Melville 
and her children were among the most 
attentive and interested worshippers in 
the little village church. The conversa- 
tion of the preceding evening had made a 
deep impression on Bessie, and she under- 
stood and appreciated the privileges of the 
day, and realized, as she had never done 
before, its solemnity. Jennie went to 
church as usual in Robin's arms. When 
the minister's voice was heard in that im- 
pressive sentence designed to commence the 
public services, The Lord is in his holy 
temple, let all the earth keep silence before 



214 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

him," Jennie arose with, the congregation ; 
but, before the Exhortation was concluded, 
her wearied limbs refused to sustain her 
little frame, and she sank exhausted upon 
her seat. For the first time in her life, 
she sat throughout the whole service, 
having strength neither to stand nor kneel. 
Long before she could read, or understand 
what was going on, she had been taught 
that it was her imperative duty to stand, 
sit, and kneel with the other worshippers, 
as a manifestation of reverence for the 
God who was worshipped there ; and her 
inability to do it on that day was a great 
grief to her, and prevented her, as she 
afterwards complained to her mother, from 
enjoying the services as she would other 
wise have done. 

Little did she think, as she feebly tot- 
tered along to the door, half supported by 
her mother, that it was the last time she 
would ever cross that sacred threshold, 
that when she worshipped with a congre- 
tion again, it would be in that blessed world 

" Where congregations ne'er break up, 
And Sabbaths have no end." 



THK LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 215 



CHAPTER VIIL 

Lent was gone, and a sad, sad Lent it 
had been to Mrs. Melville. Easter, with 
its solemn though exulting rejoicings was 
over; and Jennie and her mother had par- 
ticipated in the public solemnities, of 
neither the festival nor the fast. For the 
last two weeks she had been every morn 
mg ^^too tired" to be dressed and carried 
down stairs, but thoaght she would be 
" well enough by to-morrow but the 
morrow never brought the anticipated 
strength, and day by day she languished 
and faded. Her pet lamb was always on 
the couch close by her side ; and she had 
now grown too feeble for any of her child- 
ish pleasures, except caressing this little 
favorite. Willie Kennedy still came reg- 
ularly every afternoon ; but his merry, 
ringing laugh was now never heard ; and 
saddened and subdued, he scarcely knew 



216 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



why, lie moved about with noiseless step, 
or spoke in a low, soft tone. Even the 
noisy, rushing Bessie had learned, intui- 
tively as it were, to move about quietly ; 
and '*not to make a noise" seemed her 
constant motto, and the climax of all her 
efforts. As soon as Aunt Sally heard that 
her little pet was confined to her bed, she 
sent a petition to Mrs. Melville that she 
might be allowed to come up and assist in 
nursing her ; to which her mistress assented 
with the utmost readiness, especially when 
Jennie expressed a great desire that her 
mother would grant the old woman's re- 
quest. Aunt Sally could not live without 
a rocking-chair, and was while in it in 
perpetual motion; so Mrs. Melville very 
thoughtfully provided this luxury for 
her, and she herself had a chair by the 
head of Jennie's couch, while the faithful 
old nurse woald sit and rock herself at 
the foot of it from morning until night. 

The afternoon of the day after Easter, 
Willie came as usual, and mounting on 
the couch by Jennie, which was now his 
accustomed place, he showed her, one by 



THE LITTLE EPISCOl ALIAN. 217 

one, some beautiful Easter eggs, wliich liis 
mother had dyed and sent to her. Her 
languid eyes brightened for an instant as 
she looked at them, for any change from 
tJae monotony of the sick chamber was 
pleasant ; but she very soon grew tired of 
them, and handed them to her mother to 
put away for her. Willie had exhausted 
all his own, and his father's and mother's 
ingenuity in constantly devising something 
to amuse Jennie, and to relieve as much 
as possible the tedium of the long weary 
days. He brought flowers, arranged in 
every possible way ; sometimes in a large, 
handsome vase ; sometimes in long, beau- 
tiful garlands; then in wreaths or tiny 
boquets. He had ransacked his father's 
library, and brought over all the picture- 
books he could find; and would sit down 
by the hour when Jennie seemed interested 
in looking at them, and explain each en- 
graving, without ever seeming to grow 
weary of the task. Mrs. Melville would 
Bometimes look on with astonishment as 
this unselfish child would try every possi- 
ble expedient to amuse the little sufferer ; 
19 



218 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



and as each in succession failed, would de- 
vise something else, without weariness or 
apparent disappointment. He evinced 
neither surprise nor mortification when 
Jennie grew so soon tired of the eggs, 
which he had fondly hoped would please 
her a little longer than they had done; 
and turning to the lamb, and patting him 
on the head, he commenced talking about 
Jiim ; for when every thing else failed, he 
had hitherto found an infallible resource 
in this. Jennie could always be interested 
in any thing that related to this little crea- 
ture, around which her ardent childish 
affections seemed to have so strongly en- 
twined. She now looked at him as he was 
lavishing his caresses upon her favorite, 
and said — 

Willie, I think I must ask mother to 
give you my lamb when I leave you ; 
for I believe you love him almost, though 
not quite, as well as I do." 

At first a bright gleam of pleasure glis- 
tened in Willie's eye, but it was only for a 
moment ; and then hastily brushing away 
with his hand what he considered an un- 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 219 



manly display of feeling, his voice trem- 
bled a little as he replied — 

" I love the lamb very much, Jennie 
but I do not want him for my own, if I 
can only have him by your going from 
us, and leaving him for me. I would 
a great deal rather you would stay here, 
and keep him yourself, for I love you, 
Jennie, a great deal better than I love 
the lamb." 

"I know that, Willie," replied she; 
''but whenever I do go, would you not 
w^ish me to give him to you? Then, 
when you look at him, you will think 
about me, and you cannot forget me, then, 
Willie." 

Willie's assumed manliness all deserted 
him now, and the tears coursed each 
other rapidly down his cheeks, as he 
said — 

"I do not want any thing, Jennie, to 
keep me from forgetting you ; I never can 
forget you as long as I live." 

Mrs. Melville was as much overcome as 
the little boy ; while Aunt Sally, with the 
tears rolling from her eyes, muttered to 



220 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAlSr. 

herself as she rocked backwards and for- 
wards — 

That child is obliged to die. No child 
ever yet talked that way, and lived." 

Mother," said Jennie, after I am gone 
to my rest, will you not give Willie my 
Iamb?" 

Mrs. Melville would sooner that Jennie 
had asked any thing of her than that. 
Next to her child, it seemed to her that 
she loved her child's pet ; and it had often 
occurred to her what a solace and comfort 
that lamb would be to her, when all that 
should be left of the child who had loved 
it so devotedly would be a little grassy 
mound in the village graveyard. But 
then she remembered Willie's tender affec- 
tion for Jennie, his untiring and persever- 
ing efforts to beguile the tedious hours, 
his relinquishment of all his boyish sports 
and amusements for the confinement of a 
sick chamber ; all these things added to the 
request of her dying child, the mother's 
heart could not withstand; and so she 
promised that Willie should have the 
lamb. 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 221 



The conversation was dropped, and all 
relapsed into a silence which none seemed 
disposed to break. Willie felt too sad to 
talk, while Jennie was too feeble ; and as 
every thing was so quiet, she soon fell 
asleep. Willie sat perfectly still by her 
side, afraid almost to breathe, lest he might 
awaken her, and she slept sweetly for 
about half an hour. As she opened her 
eyes, she smiled faintly as she said — 

Willie, I do not think it was very po- 
lite for me to go to sleep, and leave you 
sitting here by me ; but you must excuse 
me ; I was so tired, I could not keep 
awake." 

It was now almost dark, and Willie said 
he would have to run very fast to get 
home before night ; and as he told her 
good-bye, Jennie said — 

" Willie, please ask your father to come 
and see me to-morrow. I wish to ask a 
favor of him." 

Willie promised to do so, and as he went 
out of the room, Mrs. Melville asked — 

*'What is it, my dear, you wish Mr, 
Kennedy to do for you ?" 
19* 



\ 



222 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

Jennie replied to her mother's question 
by asking another. 

Mother, isn't there a service in the 
Prayer Book that was made for sick 
persons?" 

Yes, my child, it is called ' The Order 
for the Visitation of the Sick.' " 

*^And is there not another for giving 
the Holy Communion to the Sick?" 
Yes, Jennie." 

" Well, mother, I want Mr. Kennedy to 
read the service for the sick to me. It 
will be almost like going to church, won't 
it, mother ? and I have not been for such 
a long time, and it may be so long before 
I am able to go again, that I would rather 
not wait any longer, but have a little 
church at home ; do you not think it will 
be pleasant, mother ? I expect Mrs. Ken- 
nedy and Willie will come ; and they, and 
you, and Bessie, and Aunt Sally, and I, 
and my lamb, that . will be a real little 
congregation, won't it?" 

Yes, my daughter, I should like it very 
much indeed ; but I am almost afraid, my 
daxling, that it will fatigue you very much " 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 223 

" no, motlier ! it cannot do that, be- 
cause you know I will be still, just as I 
do all the time. I do not think I will be 
tired; I think I will like it very much, 
and it will do me good. And, besides, 
mother, I want to ask Mr. Kennedy if it 
will be too much trouble, or if he thinks I 
am too small a child to have the Holy 
Communion at home. Yesterday was 
Easter, and that is always Communion 
day ; but you and I could not go to 
Church. I hope Mr. Kennedy will not 
refuse, for I should like to feel quiet and 
peaceful as I did before. Mother, perhaps 
it will make me more patient and more 
willing to lie here all the time, if it is 
God's will.'' 

Mrs. Melville could not imagine that 
her little girl could be more patient and 
uncomplaining than she was, but she was 
well assured that the child would receive 
some blessing in the sacrament, and she 
was very anxious that her wishes should 
be gratified. She told her she had no doubt 
but that Mr. Kennedy would most gladly 
comply with her request, and assured her 



224 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN 

that he would do it as willingly for her, 
although she was a little child, as ho 
would for the oldest member of his church. 

Prompt to respond to the case of his lit- 
tle parishioner, Mr. Kennedy came early 
the next morning. When he entered the 
room, Mrs. Melville and Jennie greeted 
him very cordially, and the former 
said — 

"I am glad yon have come, Mr. Ken- 
nedy. I have been reading and trying to 
explain to Jennie some portion of the 
Visitation Office, but I think you can do it 
a great deal better than I can." 

The minister, without saying a word in 
reply, drew from his pocket a little Prayer 
Book, and kneeling by Jennie's couch, 
read with great solemnity and feeling that 
petition from the Litany with which the 
Visitation Office begins : 

^'Eemember not, Lord, our iniquities, 
nor the iniquities of our forefathers ; spare 
us, good Lord, spare thy people whom 
thou hast redeemed with thy most pre- 
cious blood, and be not angry with us for 
ever " 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 225 



And fervently and earnestly did the 
voices of both, mother and child blend in 
the response — 

" Spare us, good Lord/' 

The service was continued through the 
prayers, and when they arose from their 
knees, Mr. Kennedy took his seat by 
Jennie, and proceeded to read very slowly 
and distinctly the Exhortation appointed 
by the Prayer Book. There was nothing 
in this which the child could not easily 
comprehend, and he did not pause until 
he came to that sentence, "Eender unto 
him humble thanks for his fatherly visita 
tion and then he said — 

Now, Jennie, the Church here teaches 
you not only to submit patiently and un- 
complainingly to all the bodily pain and 
languor which God has sent upon you, but 
also to thank him for it as a blessins; : for, 
although neither you nor I can see why 
He has thus afflicted you, still we must 
bave confidence enough in him to believe 
that He has in it some design which could 
r ot be accomplished in any other way. 
We must believe that He is much moro 



226 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



unwilling to see you suffer than even 
your mother is, and that He never would 
have sent this sickness upon you if any 
thing else would have answered his pur- 
pose. Now, my child, are you ready, as 
the Prayer Book says, * to render him 
thanks for his fatherly visitation ?' " 

She did not reply immediately, for she 
wanted to answer truthfully ; but after a 
few moments' reflection she said, with the 
utmost ingenuousness — 

do not think, Mr. Kennedy, I can 
quite say that. I know it is right for God 
to make me sick, and I believe I am will- 
ing to lie here just as long as it is his will, 
but I always thought this was all He re- 
quired of me, and never knew before that 
I ought to thank him for sending to me pain 
and weakness. I do thank him always 
when I feel a little better, but when I 
have a coughing spell and feel so tired 
and worn out, I just try to be patient, and 
that is all. But I will ask him to help me 
to be thankful for being sick, and then, 
Mr. Kennedy, when I can really feel so 
will you not come and administer the 



THE LriTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 227 



Holy Communion to mother, and Aunt 
Sally, and to me?" 

"Certainly I will, my dear child," re- 
plied he, "and I believe, Jennie, it will 
be more solemn, and impressive, and com- 
forting to us all, to receive that holy sacra- 
ment here in your sick chamber, than it 
would be even in the sanctuary. And 
shall I not bring Mrs. Kennedy and Willie 
with me, and let us have a little congrega- 
tion to worship with you?" 

"Yes, sir," replied she, "I should like 
that very much." 

"Jennie," said the minister, "I wish to 
see if I cannot make you understand per- 
fectly what the Prayer Book means by 
that sentence Avhich we have just been 
talking about. I do not think, my child, 
that it is the teaching either of the Bible, 
or of the Church, that we should be thank- 
ful for the mere bodily pain ; for thai 
would be directly against our nature, inas 
much as God has made us to shrink in 
Btinctively from suffering. But we mus' 
believe that through this suffering, God 
designs to give us some blessing which He 



228 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



could not give us in any other way ; and 
although it may be that we cannot now see 
what that blessing is, yet we must have 
faith or trust enough in him to thank him 
for it, before we know exactly what it is : 
and when we reach heaven, and He shows 
it to U3, we will pour out our gratitude in 
thanksgiving and praise for those very 
things which in this world we considered 
our heaviest afflictions, and which cost us 
the bitterest tears and the most heart- 
breaking grief. Now, Jennie, have I ex- 
plained it so that you can understand it, 
and can you thank God, not for the bodily 
pain, but for that unknown blessing which 
is concealed under your feebleness and 
euffering ?" 

I am almost afraid, Mr. Kennedy, to 
say that I can until I think more about it; 
but I will ask God to help me and to teach 
me, and I hope when you come again, that 
I will be able to say with truth that I do 
thank him for * his fatherly visitation.' " 

Well, my child, I sincerely hope you 
will. I always remember you, Jennie, in 
my prayers, and ask a special blessing upon 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 229 

the little lamb of my flock ; but to-daj I 
Bhall unite my petition with yours, that 
God will enable you, by his grace, to have 
this frame of mind. Would you not like 
me to come every morning and lead the 
Visitation Office for you ?" 

Oh, yes, sir ! that I would," replied she 
" if it would not be too much trouble. I 
know I would feel a great deal better if I 
30uld join in these prayers every day." 

It will be no trouble, my child ; it 
will be my greatest pleasure, and I know 
that I will be quite as much benefited and 
comforted as you will be. What time 
shall I come, Jennie ?" 

She smiled, as she replied — 

"I am very lazy, Mr. Kennedy, and 
love to sleep in the morning; and I do 
not think I will ever be ready for you be- 
fore eleven o'clock." 

" Well, my child, suit yourself with re 
gard to the hour, and I will make my ar- 
rangements accordingly." 

The minister, after a few moments' si- 
lence, knelt down and offered up the 
orayer for a sick child; and afterwards 
20 



230 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

laying his hand gently upon Jennie's head, 
he pronounced over her that benediction 
which the Prayer Book has incorporated 
into the Visitation Office, and which is 
among the most beautiful and touching 
passages within the lids of the sacred vol- 
ume, the benediction with which God him- 
self taught Moses to bless his own chosen 
people : 

^^Unto God's gracious mercy and pro- 
tection we commit thee. The Lord bless 
thee and keep thee. The Lord make his 
face to shine upon thee, and be gracious 
unto thee. The Lord lift up his counte- 
nance upon thee, and give thee peace, both 
now and evermore. Amen." 

True to his appointment, Mr. Kennedy 
came the next morning precisely at eleven 
o'clock; and with him, his wife and his 
two children, Willie and little Mary, who 
was about four years old. 

Mrs, Melville had taken Bessie from 
school as soon as Jennie had become too 
feeble to sit up ; so she was now at home 
to form one of the little congregation. It 
was a solemn and impressive scene. 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 231 

Jennie was propped up by pillows, and 
ner pale wan face lighted np with pleasure 
as, with her Prayer Book in her hand, she 
either responded audibly, or followed with 
her eye, while the minister read. Beside 
the usual service for the sick, he used 
the portion of the Psalter appointed for 
the morning, and then they sang a 
hymn. After all was concluded, and 
they had taken their seats, Jennie 
said — 

have thought a great deal, Mr. Ken- 
nedy, about what you said to me yester- 
day. Mother and I talked it all over after 
you went away ; and we both prayed that 
God would help me to be thankful for his 
fatherly visitation, and this morning T 
really do feel so. Did you not tell me 
that when I could truly say this, you 
would administer the Holy Communion to 
me?" 

" Yes, my dear, and I will do so, when- 
ever you wish it." 

"I should like it to-morrow," replied 
the child, " and I want Mrs. Kennedy, and 
Willie, and little Mary, all to come again," 



232 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN". 

added she, turning and looking at Mrs, 
Kennedy. 

"Certainly we will, Jennie," said she, 
" and I shall account it a very great privi- 
lege ; one that I would not lose for a great 
deal." 

When they were about leaving, Jennie 
petitioned for Willie to be allowed to stay ; 
but to this his father would not consent, 
inasmuch as he had yet some of his lessons 
to recite. He promised, however, that he 
should return immediately after he had 
had his dinner. 

As they left the house, Mrs. Kennedy 
remarked to her husband — 

That child will not linger much longer. 
She is fearfully changed in the last few 
days, and seems to me to be sinking ra- 
pidly. But I never saw upon any counte- 
nance such an expression of peaceful and 
trustful resignation." 

"Yes," Mr. Kennedy sadly replied, 
" little Jennie is almost gone ; but it is a 
blessed and comforting thought, that al- 
ihough the fold of the earthly Church will 
lose its loveliest lamb, yet the heavenly 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 283 



fold will have another added to its pura 
and stainless flock." 

After they were gone, there was for 
Bome minutes an unbroken silence in Jen- 
nie's room. Aunt Sally rocked quietly, 
and Bessie sat unmoved in her chair, with 
her head resting upon her hand, in an atti- 
tude of reflection, which she very seldom 
assumed. 

At last Jennie spoke — 

" Mother, did you not say that I might 
spend my gold pieces in any way I 
pleased?" 

**Yes, my child, certainly you may. 
They are your own, and of course you 
have a right to dispose of them in any way 
you please. How many have you, Jennie, 
and how are you going to appropriate 
them?" 

" I have ten little gold dollars, mother^ 
and I want to buy something to put in the 
Church. The large Prayer Book which 
lies on the reading-desk, begins to look 
old, and I thought if I had enough I would 
buy a new one to put in its place." 

" Well, my darling, you can do so, if 
20* 



234 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

you wish it. I should think ten dollars 
ought to purchase a very handsome book 
but if it is not enough, I will supply the 
deficiency, and you shall have it." 

" Will you go and get it for me, mo- 
ther?" 

" Yes, Jennie, if you are willing for me 
to leave you so long. When do you want 
it?" 

" Now, mother," replied she, with that 
eagerness manifested by all children to 
have at once what they are to have at all. 

The indulgent mother, without an ob- 
jection, immediately put on her bonnet, 
and charging Aunt Sally and Bessie to 
take good care of her child while she was 
gone, walked very rapidly down to the 
bookstore, purchased a large, elegant 
Prayer Book, and returned in about half 
an hour. 

When she saw the bright expression of 
pleasure that lighted up Jennie's little pale 
face, as she heartily thanked her, Mrs. 
Melville felt that she would have beei) 
compensated for any great personal sacri- 
fice, and she was truly thankful that she 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 235 



was enabled so easily to gratify lier pre- 
cious invalid. 

Jennie was perfectly delighted with the 
book, and smiled as she said — 

" Now, mother, I want you to do some- 
thing else for me." 

Well, my child, I am ready to do any 
thing that will give you pleasure." 

" I want you, mother, to get the pen and 
ink, and write on this blank leaf — 

*'FoR THE Church of the Holy Communion, 

FROM 

Little Jennie." 

"No, Jennie," said the mother; "I will 
get the pen and ink, but you must write 
the words yourself." 

"Why, mother!" replied the child, in 
astonishment, "you know I never could 
write well enough to write in a book ; and 
now my hand trembles so, that I should 
entirely spoil this elegant book, and that 
HTOuld be a great pity." 

" Never mind, my dear. Mr. Kennedy 
and I, and all the members of the Church, 



\ 



236 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

would rather have your own little hand- 
writing, even if it is not very elegantly 
done. I complied with your request, my 
daughter; will you not grant mine ?" 

" Yes, mother, if you do not think it 
will spoil my beautiful book ; but I would 
be very sorry to do that." 

Mrs. Melville raised her up, and sitting 
down behind her, supported her, while 
Bessie stood by holding the ink-stand. 
Jennie had the Prayer Book open upon 
her lap, and with a feeble, trembling hand, 
she traced the letters, and when she had 
finished, she said, looking at it — 

" There, mother, I have done. It looks 
very badly, but it was the best I could do." 

" It will do very well, my child ; and I 
will tell you, for your gratification, that I 
think the book is now worth twice as 
much as it was before you wrote in it," 

"I am glad you think so, mother. 
Please to take it now, and put it carefully 
away, and send it to the church before 
Sunday, without saying any thing to Mr, 
Kennedy or any one else about it." 

Mrs. Melville immediately called Eobm, 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 237 



and giving it into his cliarge, requested 
him to go at once and quietly place it on 
the reading-desk in the church. 

Willie came soon after, and the after- 
noon passed as usual, except that Mrs. 
Melville noticed that her child seemed 
more languid, and so very feeble as scarcely 
to be able to utter a sentence, without en- 
tire exhaustion. When night came, she 
grew restless, and was unable to sleep; 
and when at last she sank into an uneasy 
slumber, her breathing was so short and 
hurried that Mrs. Melville became seri- 
ously alarmed, and spent the long weary 
hours watching by her coach, with a feel- 
ing of agonizing suspense and dread. To- 
wards morning, however, she seemed to 
bleep more quietly; and the mother's fears 
being momentarily^ allayed, she threw her- 
self upon the bed, and snatched a few mo- 
ments' repose between the intervals of 
starting up, to satisfy herself that the little 
slumberer had not already sunk into that 
" sleep which knows no waking." 



288 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Morning dawned : a balmy April moni' 
mg, whose soft air was fragrant with the 
breath of spring flowers, and vocal with 
the music of joyous birds. It was late 
when Jennie awoke, and although she had 
seemed for several hours to sleep sweetly 
and deeply, yet she was not at all re 
freshed, but said, in a very touching and 
plaintive tone — - 

" Mother, I am very, very tired ; more 
so, I believe, than I ever was before in all 
my life." 

Well, my darling," replied her mother, 
try and go to sleep again, and perhap?- 
ifter that you will feel better. You wevf 
so restless, and slept so little last night 
that I am not at all surprised you shouici 
(eel verj feeble this morning." 
" What time is it, mother ?" 
" Almost eleven, Jennie " 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 239 



" Oh ! then, mother, I have not time to 
go to sleep any more. You must make 
haste and get me ready, for Mr. Kennedy 
will be here directly." 

**No, my dear," said Mrs. Melville. 
" Mr. Kennedy can come at any time ; and 
1 will send him word that you are too fee- 
ble for the service this morning. I hope 
you will be stronger to-morrow, and better 
able to enjoy it." 

" No, mother, I am not willing to put it 
off. I never get any stronger now, but 
grow weaker and weaker every day ; and 
perhaps to-morrow I may be entirely too 
sick to receive the Holy Communion. So 
please, mother, do not send to Mr. Ken- 
nedy and tell him not to come." 

"Very well, my daughter; but I am 
Badly afraid the service will entirely ex- 
baust all your remaining strength." 

Jennie was usually supported by pillows 
•every morning, while her mother combed 
those long beautiful curls which were the 
pride of Mrs. Melville's heart. But she waa 
now too feeble for this, and while her 
mother was gently brushing her hair from 



240 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



her face, as she lay upon her pillow, she 
quietly dropped asleep. 

Mrs. Melville left Aunt Sally, who, 
statue-like, seemed never to leave her 
rocking-chair by the couch to watch the 
sleeping child; and going herself down 
stairs, gave orders that when Mr. Kennedy 
came, he should be told that Jennie was 
asleep, and that he would be sent for as 
soon as she awoke. 

Two long, weary hours Mrs. Melville 
passed in silent watching, and at last Jen- 
nie stirred, and murmured, between sleep- 
ing and waking, some words, which were 
at first inaudible ; but soon the quick ear 
of the anxious mother caught the sound, 
and as she bent over her, she heard dis- 
tinctly the words: " Therefore, with angels 
and archangels." 

She looked round at Aunt Sally, who 
nodded her head, and said in a low tone — 

" Yes, she is dreaming about Paradise, 
and I think she will soon be there." 

And then, as Jennie opened her eyes 
with a startled expression, the old woman 
Baid— 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 241 



" Jennie, what have you been dreaming 
about? Angels?" 

"Yes, Aunt Sally," she replied slowly, 
and with difficulty, but with her counte- 
nance brightening up; "I have had a 
Bweet dream about hearing the most beau- 
tiful music, and I tried for a long time to 
find out what it was ; and just as I awoke^ 
I remembered it was a sweet chant in the 
Communion Service that begins : * There- 
fere, with angels and archangels.' Oh ! it 
was sweet, beautiful music," she added, 
while her face glowed with animation ; and 
her voice, wearied with the unusual exer- 
tion of saying so much at once, died away 
* mto a whisper. 

She waited a few moments, and then 
suddenly asked — 

"Mother, has Mr. Kennedy been here?" 

" I presume so, my child. It is almost 
one o'clock, and, you recollect, you asked 
him to come at eleven ; but as soon as you 
fell asleep, I went down and told them 
that when he came you would not be able 
to see him, but that I would send for him 
when you awoke. However, I think now 

21 



242 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAK. 

that you had better wait until the after- 
noon ; don't you ?" 

Yes, mother, perhaps it would be best/' 

She relapsed into silence, and seemed 
for some time to be lost in thought. Then 
she said, as if thinking aloud — 

" I wish I could hear it just once more ! 
I wonder if they would not come and sing 
it for me ; it would make me so happy." 

" "What is it, Jennie ?" asked Mrs. Mel- 
ville. 

"I was wondering, mother," answered 
she, speaking with great difficulty, and ^ 
pausing after almost every word to take 
breath, if Miss Morton and Miss Jennings 
would not come here and sing that beauti- ^ 
ful chant for me. Do you think it would 
be asking too great a favor to send for 
them to come this afternoon with Mr, 
Kennedy ?" 

'*No, my child," said her mother. "I 
dare say they would take great pleasure in 
gratifying you. Shall I write them a note, 
and ask them?" 

" Yes, mother, if you please. I will be 
80 glad if they will come." 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 243 



Mrs. Melville sat down, and writing a 
note to the young ladies, made known her 
child's request ; and received in reply, an 
assurance that they would very gladly 
comply with her wishes, and would be 
there punctually at the appointed time. 
She had purposely named a late hour in 
the afternoon, hoping that as the day ad- 
vanced, her child might rally a little from 
the unusual depression and exhaustion 
into which she had sunk. 

It was almost sunset when that little 
congregation were silently and solemnly 
assembled in that sick chamber. Jennie's 
eyes were strangely bright ; but the hectic 
glow which generally burned upon her 
cheek, had given way to an almost un- 
earthly pallor. Upon Mrs. Melville's 
countenance were plainly traced the fur- 
rows which months of anxious care and 
ceaseless watching had made ; and even 
Bessie's thoughtless gayety seemed awed 
and subdued, and an expression of unde- 
fined terror rested upon her face. 

The solemn services began. No sound, 
aot even Jennie's usually incessant cousrh, 



244 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

interrupted tlie silence ; unbroken, save hy 
the minister's voice, until they came to the 
General Confession, and perhaps never was 
that confession poured out by hearts more 
Bubdued and fervent. 

As is always the custom, the minister 
alone stood, while all the others, on their 
bended knees, chanted the Trisagion* 
Sweetly did the trembling tones of Miss 
Morton's musical voice fill that dying 
chamber as she chanted the recitative ; and 
when at the word ^^Holy," the deep notes 
of Mr. Kennedy's bass, and the rich tones 
of Miss Jennings' contralto, blended into 
one volume of harmony, a convulsive sob 
from poor little heart-broken Bessie, min- 
gled the wail of earthly sorrow with the 
triumphant music of the heavenly hosts. 

The last sounds died away into deep and 
solemn stillness, and as Mr. Kennedy 
turned to kneel and offer up the beautiful 
and touching prayer which immediately 
follows, a glance at the countenance of 
Jennie caused him to utter an exclamation 
which made them all start from theif 
cnees in terror and alarm. 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 245 

The little snflerer ^Yas indeed gone f 
Her spirit was wafted to its heavenly 
home upon the sweet strains of that glo 
rioiis chant; and while the voices of 
friends around her dying bed trembled 
with heart-breaking sorrow, she was al- 
ready in that blessed world whose music 
no discord shall ever mar, and with whose 
notes of harmony no tone of sorrow shall 
ever blend ! 

Upon the countenance of the child was 
no expression of deep repose ; it was one 
of ecstatic rapture ; not only as if her ear 
had caught an echo of the miisic of heaven, 
or her eye had been permitted to catch a . 
glimpse of its glories, but as if every 
sense and every facult}' of her whole being 
had been allowed, even before her spirit 
fled, a transporting foretaste of its future 
unrevealed bliss ! 

Mrs. Melville was completely stunned. 
She knew her child must die, and that 
very speedily, but she little dreamed when 
that morning sun arose, that ere its course 
should be run, her precious sufferer ~^ould 
be safely housed in that blessed home 
21* 



246 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



where languor and disease should be for- 
ever unknown. She gazed with tearless 
eyes upon that radiant face, so pale and 
still. There was no sign of a struggle 
there : there was nothing of death except 
its stillness, and, bewildered and amazed, 
the stricken mother knelt by the form of 
her lifeless child in an attitude of helpless 
and hopeless despair. 

Poor little Bessie was perfectly frantic. 
She screamed and sobbed until the whole 
house re-echoed with her piteous cries ; 
and though she was immediately removed 
from the chamber of the dead, still the 
sounds of her violent grief penetrated even 
there. 

At length Mr. Kennedy's voice broke 
the silence, as he said — 

"We came here to receive the Holy 
Communion with a dying child, but Christ 
had said to her, though we knew it not — 
'Thou shalt not henceforth drink of 
this fruit of the vine until that day when 
I drink it new with thee in my Father's 
kingdom;' and in that Father's kingdom 
she now is, enjoying all the blessings of 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIa:^. 247 



her Saviour's presence. We came to 

chant for her an anthem of praise in 

earthly music, and even while we sung, 

she may have joined the saints in rest, 

chanting their holier melodies. ' Blessed 

are the dead who die in the Lord ; even 

so saith the Spirit; for they rest from 

their labors.^ " 
^ ^ ^ ^ 

The next morning, at his family devo- 
tions, Mr. Kennedy read the forty-third 
chapter of Genesis, which contains that 
most touching lamentation of the aged 
Patriarch — *^ If I be bereaved of my chil- 
dren, 1 am bereaved." His heart was 
filled with sorrow, and there was some- 
thing peculiarly sad and subdued in the 
tones of his voice as he read that verse. 
Little Willie listened attentively. His 
childish heart was full too, full almost to 
bursting ; and although he did not exactly 
understand the meaning of the words, yet 
tliere was something in his father's tone 
and manner which caused the tears to rush 
to his eyes and coarse each other rapidly 
down his cheeks. After the exercises wero 



248 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



over, and the family "had dispersed, ho 
went to his father and asked sadly — 

"Father, what is the meaning of be- 
reaved ?" 

"We say we are bereaved, my son, 
when we are very heavily afflicted by the 
loss of some object which we loved with 
peculiar affection." 

The father was just going to give an 
illustration of the meaning of the word by 
applying it to Mrs. Melville's family, when 
Willie, with brimming eyes and choking 
voice, said — 

" Father, am I bereaved? for I did love 
little Jennie Melville very dearly." 

" Yes, my son," replied the minister, 
touched to his very heart, "you are be- 
reaved, so am I, so is the Church, which 
has lost its loveliest little Christian, but 
most of all, my boy, is her poor mother 
bereaved ;" and then he added, as if speak- 
ing to himself, " Poor Mrs. Melville ! from 
my very soul I do pity her!" 

Willie turned and went away : when 
the family were assembled at the break- 
fast-table, he was not there^, and did nol 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN". 249 

come until they had nearly finished their 
meal. When he entered the room, his 
mother said — 

" Why, Willie, my son, where have you 
been?" 

To this the little boy only replied — 
" I have been busy, mother." And he 
looked so sad, that the mother could not 
find it in her heart to reprove him for his 
tardiness. 

About an hour afterwards, Mrs. Ken- 
nedy was sitting in the dining-room with 
little Mary in her lap. She was passing 
her hand abstractedly through the child's 
curls, and thinking about Mrs. Melville, 
when Willie's voice, close by her side, 
aroused her from her reverie, as he said — 
Please do it for me, mother. I have 
been trying ever since breakfast, and T 
cannot do it any better than this." 

" What is it, my son ?" asked the mo- 
ther. 

He handed her a purely white rose-bud, 
and two gernanium leaves tied together by 
a piece of white ribbon, on one end of 
which she saw an attempt at writing. Un« 



250 THE LITTLE EPISCOPaLIAK. 



Bkilled at any time in the use of the pen, 
Willie's trembling hand and tearful eyes 
had now succeeded much worse than usual, 
and the mother found some difficulty in 
deciphering the words written in a child's 
unsteady hand, and then blotted over as 
if by a falling tear. With some effort she 
read — 

" I am bereaved. Willie Kennedy." 
Mrs. Kennedy's heart swelled, as she 
asked — 

" What do you wish me to do with it, 
my son ?" 

want you, mother, to get another 
nice piece of ribbon, and write these same 
words on one end of it, and tie it on my 
little boquet." 

And then, my child, what will you do 
with it ?" 

" I want you, mother, to go with me to 
Mrs. Melville's, and let me put it in little 
Jennie's hand." 

"Why, Willie," said his mother, '"it 
will not do her any good ; she will never 
know it is there." 

"I know that, mother, but I'll know it 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 251 



is there, and it will do me good. Won't 
you go, mother ?" 

" Certainly, my child, if it will gratify 
you ; but, Willie, I would rather not take 
off that piece of ribbon. It is true, it does 
not look so neatly as it would if I were to 
write the words ; but I would rather you 
should let it stay just as it is." 

*^Well, mother, I am willing if you 
think it will do ; but I was afraid, it was so 
blotted, that Mrs. Melville would not let it 
stay in Jennie's hand." 

**Who told you to do this, my son ?" 
asked Mrs. Kennedy, after a moment's 
silence. 

Nobody, mother," replied he. " You 
know father read this morning about 
Jacob being bereaved; I thought the 
word sounded very sorrowful, although I 
did not know the meaning of it ; so after 
you were all gone out, I asked what it 
meant, and father told me. Then I knew 
I was bereaved, and I thought I would 
feel better if I could tell Jennie so, al- 
though, mother, I do not want you to 
think that I supposed she would know it 

18 



252 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



At first I took a piece of paper, and made 
a little note, and wrote it down, to put in 
ier hand, but afterwards I thought of this 
|dlan, and liked it better. Don't you, 
mother ?" 

" Yes, my son, I like this better than a 
note, and think it will be a very appro- 
priate tribute of affection to your lovely 
little playmate. Get your hat, and I will 
go with you now." 

Little Mary petitioned to go along, and 
as Mrs. Kennedy thought it a suitable op- 
portunity for impressing a solemn lesson 
upon her infant mind, she consented. 

The child w^as bewildered by the ap- 
pearance of the lovely dead. Following 
Willie's example, she too wanted, as she 
Baid, ^'to kiss Jennie," but when her lips 
touched that cold white brow, a shudder 
passed through her frame, and she recoiled 
in terror, and clung to her mother with 
convulsive grasp as long as they remained 
in the room. Willie placed the boquet in 
Jennie's hand, and silently and sadly they 
turned away. 

Some time after they had left the house 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 253 



on their return home, little Mary thought- 
fully asked — 

" Mamma, what are they going to do 
with Jennie now ?" 

" Put her in the grave, my darling." 

" What is the grave, mamma ?" 

" It is a deep narrow hole in the ground, 
Mary, where they will lay her beautiful 
little body, and then cover it up with 
earth." 

The child shuddered again, as she ex- 
claimed — 

" Oh, mamma I I am so sorry for poor 
Jennie !" and then relapsed into a silence 
which continued unbroken until they 
reached home. 

About two hours afterwards, little Mary 
came into the room where her mother 
was sitting, with about half a dozen 
bulbous roots in her apron, and com- 
menced amusing herself by rolling them 
over the floor. Attracted by the noise, 
her mother looked up from her book anj 
said — 

" Why, Mary, what have you there 
22 



254 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



" Some little balls, mamma, which 1 
picked up in the garden." 

" Why, my child," said Mrs. Kennedy, 
they are hyacinth roots ; some, I pre- 
sume, which James threw aside last fall, 
when he was transplanting and arranging 
them. Don't bruise them, Mary ; if you 
plant them they will grow up next spring, 
and bear sweet beautiful white hyacinths." 

" How must I plant them, mamma?" 
Just dig a hole in the ground, and put 
the roots in, and cover them up with earth 
again." 

Mrs. Kennedy resumed her reading, but 
found she could not concentrate her 
thoughts, so she laid her book down in her 
lap, and was soon so deeply absorbed in 
her own mournful reflections, that she had 
entirely forgotten the presence of the 
child. Mary had ceased rolling her ballb, 
as she called them, and was now seated 
quietly upon the floor, examining them 
with careful minuteness. 

At last she looked up and said, her face 
beaming as if with a bright thought — 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 255 



" Mamma, won't Jennie make a pretty 
hyacinth 

Her mother raised her eyes, and asked — • 
**Whatareyou talking about, Mary?'* 
" Why, mamma, you said they were going 
to plant Jennie, and if these ugly things 
in my lap will grow up to be such beauti- 
ful hyacinths as you say they will, I 
should think J ennie would grow up to be 
a great deal prettier one, for I am sure she 
is a great deal prettier now." 

"Why, Mary," said her mother, much 
surprised, "I never said anybody was go- 
ing to plant Jennie." 

"You said, mamma, that to plant any 
thing, was to dig a hole and put it in, and 
cover it with dirt ; and when I asked you 
what they were going to do with Jennie, 
you told me they would put her in a hole 
in the ground, and cover her up. So they 
must be going to plant her." 

Mrs. Kennedy now laid aside her book, 
and taking her little child in her lap, she 
pursued the analogy which had voluntarily 
suggested itself to her infant mind, and 
talked to her long and earnestly about the 



256 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



resurrection of the dead, and told her that 
Jennie's body, after it was raised, would 
as far exceed in loveliness that little form 
(beautiful as it was) which she had seen 
in the morning, as the purely white and 
fragrant hyacinth exceeded in beauty the 
unsightly root which she held in her hand. 



THE LITTLE EPISQCPALIA^T. 257 



CHAPTER X 

Mrs. Melville could not be contented 
anywhere except by the couch on which 
lay her child in her calm, deep sleep. She 
was in no haste to "bury her dead out of 
her sight," but she clung with all the te- 
nacity of a mother's love to that lifeless 
form, and would rather have her child dead 
than not to have her at all. For hours 
she had shed no tear, and had tried in 
vain to realize the blow which had fallen 
with such stunning force upon her heart. 
Strangely unmoved, she had gazed upon 
that pale, lovely face, had touched that 
marble brow, and had endeavored in every 
possible way to make herself believe that 
Jennie was really dead ; but when, in spite 
of all these evidences, she could not feel, 
she wandered almost frantic from room to 
room, believing that she must either have 
lost her reason, or be utterly destitute of 
22* 



258 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



human feeling. At last, she went back 
again to the parlor. As she quietly opened 
the door, she saw Aunt Sally sitting in her 
rocking-chair, close beside the couch, and 
she heard the words indistinctly muttered, 
"Yes, I do bless thy holy name, for all 
thy servants departed this life in thy faith 
and fear ; and I know this child was one 
of them." 

Good old Aunt Sally ! Not only had 
she spelt out the Creed and the Litany, as 
recommended by her mistress, and by the 
gentle child whose purij&ed spirit had 
even before her own reached that blessed 
home to which the Prayer Book is a guid- 
ing star, but the old woman had learned, 
in the language of the Communion OflB.ce, 
to thank her God for taking the child 
there, and for the lovely example she had 
left behind. 

Mrs. Melville approached the couch, and 
there, nestled close beside her who had 
loved him so tenderly, sat the little lamb, 
faithful to the last! And there, too, in 
her hand, was Willie's boquet. Tho 
writing on the ribbon attracted Mrs. Mel- 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 259 

ville's attention, and when she read that 
touching expression of a child's sorrow, in 
the words of the old man himself, a child 
in tenderness and gentleness, the fountain 
of the mother's tears was unsealed, and 
they fell like torrents of scalding rain upon 
that pure and stainless flower. 

But at length the time came when Mrs. 
Melville must give up her child. It was 
a calm, still Sunday morning, and the 
preparations for the funeral were all made. 
Just before the appointed hour, Willie 
went to take a last farewell look at his lit- 
tle playmate, and then passed quietly 
about the house, until he found what, next 
to Jennie herself, he loved for her sake, 
the pet lamb, whose eyes brightened with 
pleasure as he recognized his friend. 
Willie found no difficulty in taking him 
away, for, during the last few days, he had 
sadly missed the affectionate care to which 
he had been so long accustomed ; and un- 
noticed and neglected, he now manifested 
real gratitude for Willie's attentions and 
caresses. He took him in his arms, and 
slowly and sadly proceeded to the church. 



260 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAIT. 



He seated liimself in a pew, and placed his 
cliarge at his feet, where he remained per- 
fectly quiet during all the services. Tho 
congregation soon began to assemble, and 
in a short time the church was crowded. 
Miss Morton and her class in the Sunday 
School all wore the badge of mourning 
for the little scholar and companion ; and 
each carried in her hand a boquet of white 
flowers. 

At length the little coffin was brought 
m and placed in front of the chancel ; and, 
advancing to the reading-desk, Mr. Ken- 
nedy's glance rested with surprise upon 
the elegant new Prayer Book. He opened 
it, and the tears dimmed his eyes as he 
read the scarcely legible words, the last 
that were ever traced by that feeble, 
trembling hand, now palsied in death, and 
he thought there could not possibly be a 
more appropriate memento of her -who 
had been the loveliest ornament of that 
church, than the simple inscription upon 
the blank leaf of the book which she had 
herself given as her farewell remem- 
brancer : 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 261 



"For the CnuEcn of the Holy CoimuNiON, 

FROM 

Little Jexxie." 

Mr. Kennedy entered into no labored 
panegyric upon tlie dead. The Barial 
Service, wliose matchless sublimity chal- 
lenges the admiration of all, and a short, 
solemn, but tenderly affectionate appeal to 
the young, occupied the hour ; and they 
then proceeded to the grave which was in 
the churchyard. Willie, his eyes swollen 
with weeping, carrying the lamb in his 
arms, followed closely in his father's foot- 
steps, and took his station beside him at 
the grave. A breathless silence prevailed 
while they lowered the cof&n into its final 
resting-place ; and one by one. Miss Morton 
and her scholars threw in their beautiful 
boquets. 

Mr. Kennedy's voice was then heard, in 
those solemn and expressive passages of 
Scripture appointed to be read in our hear- 
ing, while every thing around us is so well 
calculated to engrave them indelibly upon 
our minds. Afterwards came those soul- 



262 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAJST. 



thrilling words: "Earth to earth, ashes to 
ashes, dust to dust;" and the clods fell 
with that dull, hollow sound which sends 
through the heart a cold shudder of agony. 

Just then, as if to give greater effective- 
ness to the scene, the little lamb, perfectly 
quiet until that moment, bleated most 
piteously, as if mingling his voice of sor- 
row in the general lamentation for his lost 
friend. Willie could bear no more, and 
his tears flowed with renewed violence. 

There is something peculiarly contagious 
in childish grief Little hearts had been, 
ere this, full to overflowiiig ; but now, they 
no longer made any effoit to suppress their 
feelings, and sob after sob answered re- 
sponsively to each other, until there arose 
around that little open grave a wail of 
childish sorrow, which the listening angels 
heard with sympathy and pity. Mr. Ken- 
nedy was thoroughly unmanned. He closed 
^ the book for an instant, and his vigorous, 
manly form shook convulsively with emo- 
tion, which he did not strive to subdue.- 
It was, however, only for an instant, and 
then, with a strong effort, he proceede-d 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 263 

with the service. In a few moments, his 
clear voice rang cut upon the solemn 
stillness of that sad scene, and its tones 
trembled just enough to render the eflfect 
more thrilling, as he chanted those beauti- 
ful and soothing words — 

"I heard a voice from heaven, saying 
unto me, Write, from henceforth blessed 
are the dead who die in the Lord ; even so 
saith the Spirit, for they rest from their la- 
bors." 

* « 4f * * 

It was a long time after little Jennie 
had been carried away, before Mrs. Mel- 
ville suddenly remembered she had not 
seen Bessie for hours, and she immediately 
went in search of her. She passed all over 
the house, and looked in every place of 
her usual resort ; but Bessie was nowhere 
to be found. At last her mother opened 
the parlor door, and there upon the couch 
from which her sister had so lately been 
removed, sat a plaintive little figure, the 
very sight of which would have melted a 
heart of stone. The frantic violence of her 
grief had exhausted itself, and there was 



264 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 

no sign of sorrow, except the position 
wliicli she had assumed, and an occasional 
low, deep sob, which seemed the wail of a 
broken heart. Her curls, which had not 
received that morning, as usual, the careful 
attention of Fanny, were now streaming in 
wild confusion over her shoulders and 
neck ; her face was buried in her lap, and 
one hand grasped tightly a long ringlet of 
soft, brown hair, which had once been 
Jennie's. 

Mrs. Melville, herself broken-hearted, 
had now to become the comforter of the 
childish mourner ; and seating herself be- 
side her, she passed her arm lovingly 
around her, and drew her up close to her 
bosom. Bessie's heart was touched more 
deeply than ever by this demonstration of 
affection, but she did not ory any more- 
she had no more tears to shed ; so, without 
looking up at all, she only clung more 
closely to her mother, and said, in the in- 
tervals of her sobs — 

"Oh, mother! my heart is so empty T 
and then she added, with touching repeti- 
tion, " so very, very empty, mother 1" 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 265 

For this the mother had no reply. Hei 
heart was emphatically empty, too; and 
weeping bitterly, she conld only say— - 

" And so is mine, my child 1" 

Mrs. Melville Avept long and convul* 
Bively, while Bessie shed not a tear ; but 
every few moments she would heave a 
sigh that seemed to come from the inmost 
depths of her very soul. 

As soon as Mrs. Melville had sufficiently 
regained her accustomed self-control to be 
able to speak, she said — 

" Bessie, my daughter, do you not know 
that it is very selfish for you and me to 
grieve for our precious child ? Do you not 
know, my darling, that Jennie has gone to 
her Saviour's home, where pain, and suffer- 
ing, and death, can never reach her any 
more?" 

" Yes, mother, I know that, and when I 
remember how happy she is, I forget for a 
little while how very, very lonely I shall 
be without her." 

Her lip quivered, and a shudder almost 
of terror thrilled her frame as she looked 
up and said, almost in a whisper— 
23 



266 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 



" Mother, do you think you and I killed 
Jennie ?" 

Horrified and amazed, the startled mo- 
ther asked — 

"Why, Bessie, what do you mean? 
Who put such a notion into your head?" 

Mrs. Dan vers, mother, told me yester- 
day, when I was crying so much, that it 
was Tery wrong for me to do so, and she 
said, ' You and I loved Jennie entirely too 
much, and that was the reason God took 
her away and, mother, I was so fright- 
ened to think that perhaps I had killed 
Jennie, and if I had not loved her so much, 
God would have let her stay with us, that 
I have not cried since." 

She paused an instant, and then added 
in a most pleading and apologetic tone — 

" I did not know it was wrong to love 
her ; indeed, mother, I could not help it." 

At any other time Mrs. Melville would 
have felt all the indignation of her nature 
rebel against these cold and heartless ^ 
teachings and philosophy, not religion, 
which are so often poured into the stricken 
mourner's ear, and which had now im- 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 267 



pelled a child of only eight years to the 
unnatural stoicism of crushing and repress- 
ing that outward demonstration of feeling 
which God himself has mercifully pro- 
vided as a relief to the overcharged and 
bursting heart. But now the mother was 
too sorrowful to be indignant, so she only 
brushed away the hair from Bessie's glow- 
ing and feverish face, and looking sadly 
into those glazed eyes from which the 
child had heroically banished every tear, 
because she had been told it was wrong to 
shed them, Mrs. Melville said — 

"My child, your mother does not be- 
lieve one word of any such false teach- 
ing, for I have never found in the Bible 
that it is a sin to grieve for our precious 
dead, if we do it meekly and submissively. 
We did not love Jennie too much, and if 
I could, I would have loved her a thou* 
Band-fold more than I did. God made her 
lovely, and gave us hearts to appreciate 
that loveliness, and warm affections where- 
with to cling to her. He did not take her 
away because we loved her too much, but 
because He thought it would render Para- 



268 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALUJS'. 



dise more attractive to us, and make U9 
try more earnestly to reacli there if lie 
placed onr treasure, our precious Jennio 
there. This, my darling, is the view I 
take of our sore, our heavy bereavement, 
and if I did not thus regard it, I do not 
believe I could bear up under it at all 
And as to our hearts being empty, Bessie, 
as you express it, it is natural they should 
feel so, but let us both try alwa3'S to re- 
member that we can love our darling, 
though departed, as if she were still on 
earth. She is not lost. She has only 
found a pleasanter home than ours, a more 
tenderly affectionate guardian and pro- 
tector than even her mother could ever be, 
and more ennobling companionship than 
you and I and all her earthly friends could 
have furnished her. We must not think 
that those strong, deep affections which 
were so closely entwined around her, have 
now nothing to which they may cling. 
She is far more worthy of our fervent, un- 
dying love than she ever was before, inas- 
much as now she is pure, sinless, and 
undefiled. Love her, my daughter, just aa 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. 269 



mucb, aye more, if you can, than you have 
ever done, and let that love be only an- 
other tie to bind you to our Jennie's and 
our Saviour's home!" 

Soothingly had the mother's ^vords fallen 
upon Bessie's aching heart, and, like a 
precious balm, had stilled that wild tumult 
in her breast, which was as near akin to de- 
spair as anything a little child can ever feel. 
She was inexpressibly comforted by the 
assurance, that her excessive devotion to 
her sister had not been the cause of her 
death ; that God was not now visiting her 
for an idolatry of which she had been 
wholly unconscious, and that she still 
might love that sister with all the fervid 
intensity of her nature. Mrs. Melville 
was truly relieved to see an expression of 
calm and quiet resignation take the plac3 
of that mysterious and undefined terror 
which was so plainly written on hercbild'i 
countenance when she first began to talk 
to her. 

Late in the afternoon, Mrs. Melville led 
her little girl to the newly-made grave, in 
which she felt her heart was buried. As 
2P* 



270 THE LITTl.E EPISCOPALIAN. 

they approached the churchyard gate, 
Willie came out, and there, planted on 
that little mound, they saw his first tribute 
of affectionate remembrance to the quiet 
eleeper beneath — an evergreen cross 
wreathed with the Star of Bethlehem, 
thus blending into one the symbols of the 
Nativity and Crucifixion. 

When they returned home, they found 
the lamb lying in his accustomed place on 
the rug, in the dining-room, and then, for 
the first time, they remembered that they 
had not seen him before that day, al- 
though neither knew, that through Wil- 
lie's considerate kindness, he too had been 
permitted to witness the funeral solem- 
nities of the child, who, to the very last 
moment of her life, loved him with un- 
remitting tenderness. 

The next morning, in compliance with 
Jennie's dying request, Eobin was sent 
with the lamb to Mr. Kennedy's house. A 
bright blue ribbon was fastened round his 
neck by a massive silver clasp, on which 
were engraved the words — 



THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN, 271 



"To Willie. 
From Jennie." 

In * # ^ * 

A few weeks afterwards, a little marble 
column was reared by that quiet grave in 
tbe village churcliyard. On it was carved 
in relief, a beautiful little lamb at the foot 
of a cross, and just underneath, was the 
simple inscription — 

Little Jennie, 
April, 1854. 

^ He shall gather the lambs in his arms, and carry 
them in his bosom." 




^ 



